


Ginny's Ambition

by RavenHairedPrincess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal, Anal Plug, Animagus, BDSM, Classroom Sex, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Doctor/Patient, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Flogging, Fluff and Smut, HP: EWE, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Sex, Porn Magazines, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Romance, Sex Education, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sounding, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-19 11:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenHairedPrincess/pseuds/RavenHairedPrincess
Summary: What happens when erotic Snamione fanfiction appears at Hogwarts, and how does it happen? Ginny Weasley takes Hermione on a whirlwind of emotions, and poor Snape gets dragged along for the ride."She had started out feeling exhilarated, but that quickly shifted into fear before transitioning into a confusing state of arousal, which ultimately left her mortified."- Ch. 6





	1. Returning to Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> Anything recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling. I made no money with this story. Wrote it just for fun. 
> 
> The dubcon/noncon and daddykink tags are for the in-story fanfiction (do not actually happen between main characters in story). I will post a warning and write them in a way they can be skipped without missing anything important to the story.

  
Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express with Ginny to make up her 7th year and complete her NEWTS on Monday, August 31, 1998. The girls waved goodbye to Harry and Ron through the window in their compartment. Hermione was going to miss them dearly, but she was looking forward to being able to fully dedicate herself to her studies. This was her opportunity to just be a student. She wanted to absorb as much as she possibly could.

“What are you planning to do after Hogwarts, Hermione?” Ginny asked as she flipped through a quidditch magazine. The two girls had become good friends over the last few years. They didn’t spend much time together over the summer, however. Ginny had spent almost her entire summer with her tongue down Harry’s throat. Hermione, on the other hand, had swiftly skirted Ron’s advances week after week.

Hermione sighed and pulled a book out of her bag. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m hoping to have figured it out before school ends though. What about you?” Hermione asked. she had spent the last year debating whether she wanted to work for the Control of Magical Creatures department in the ministry. It would have been the obvious choice had she not had so much reason to loath the Ministry of Magic. She had a world of possibilities in her hands, and the options were overwhelming.

Ginny closed the magazine she was holding and gazed out the window once more before responding, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?” Hermione asked confused.

“Well, I obviously want to play quidditch professionally, but…I’ve always wanted to be a writer. It’s silly really. Just something I enjoy,” she answered looking slightly embarrassed.

“Gin, that’s wonderful. Why would you think I would make fun of you for that?” Hermione questioned. “Without writers, what would I do with all of my time?”

Ginny laughed at her, “Well, it isn’t exactly the aspiration of many witches. Wizards either now that I think of it. I don’t mean being a historian, Hermione. I want to write fiction. My dad has loads of muggle books. Even without magic, I find them captivating.” Ginny blushed and looked away from her.

Hermione hadn’t thought about it before. She couldn’t recall any Wizarding fiction that wasn’t children’s literature, unless she counted Lockhart’s books, of course. “Ginny, I think it’s wonderful. Just what this world needs. Have you already written anything? Can I read it?” she asked eagerly.

She looked at Hermione with apprehension. “Well, I didn’t bring anything with me that I’ve written. Maybe I could write something for you. Then you could tell me what you think…if you think I’m wasting my time,” Ginny said sounding a little less embarrassed.

“I’d love that, Gin,” Hermione smiled brightly at the redhead next to her.

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Hermione and Ginny sat down in the Great Hall among the other Gryffindors. The hall was buzzing with chatter and excitement, which was a pleasant surprise considering the end of the last school year. Hermione scanned the staff table and found Headmistress McGonagall speaking with Professor Sprout. Hagrid sat next to Madam Hooch, who was buttering a dinner roll. Professor Snape was scowling at his food as if it had offended him. Meanwhile, Professors Vector and Sinistra seemed in deep conversation beside him.

It was a miracle Professor Snape survived the war. He would not have deserved that death. The headmistress announced that Professor Snape would resume as Potions Master while the new teacher, a short squat wizard would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione rolled over the information in her mind. _Headmistress McGonagall would not have refused had Professor Snape asked for the job. Perhaps the rumors of him coveting the position were just that._

“Has it finally happened to _the_ Hermione Granger?” Ginny said elbowing her.

“What?” Hermione turned to Ginny and picked up her goblet to take a sip of pumpkin juice.

“You were staring at Snape. No point in denying it,” she replied with a mischievous grin.

“I was just thinking- wait. What? Denying it? What has finally happened?” she asked the Ginny completely confused.

“You fancy him,” she flashed Hermione a toothy smile and wiggled her eyebrows.

Hermione’s eyes went wide and she said, “WHAT?” Noticing she was drawing unwanted attention, she lowered her voice. “Why would you say such a thing? I was only thinking it was lucky he survived. What are you on about?”

Ginny laughed at her, “Don’t worry. It’s happened to us all at some point. Oh don’t look so scandalized. It’s not a big deal. It’s only natural. He’s the only male teachers under a hundred….and still alive. Honestly, Hermione, if you would put down a book once in a while, you’d know what I’m talking about,” She looked a Hermione who seemed somewhat offended. She continued, “Oh come on, he’s every school girl’s guilty pleasure…and now that his heartbreaking, undying love story has been plastered all over the Prophet, he’s every grown witches too.” Hermione looked completely bewildered, so Ginny went on, “He’s tall, dark, mysterious, and now a bloody war hero. Can you honestly tell me, Hermione, that you haven’t noticed his hands when he is brewing or his scent?”

“His scent?” Hermione echoed incredulously.

“Contrary to Ron’s opinion that he never showers, he smells intoxicating. And if you can look past the horrible things that come out of that mouth of his, the way he twists his lips, imagine what else he can do with them,” Ginny said noting Hermione was now blushing. Feeling more like embarrassing Hermione now that enlightening her, Ginny whispered, “just for one minute, imagine what it would be like to get a detention from him. How would you feel bent over his knee while he spanked you? I dare you, Hermione Granger. You are a Gryffindor…are you not?”

  
Hermione was shocked, appalled, and offended that her Gryffindorness was now in question. “Yes, Gin, I am,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Prove it!” Ginny goaded her. “Look at him.” Hermione looked up at the surly Potions Master. _“Imagine your heart racing as you approach his desk. You say, ‘Professor, I’m here for my detention._ ’ Don’t look away. _He motions with his hand for you to come around his desk, which you do. You’re nervous. What is he going to do? He grabs you by the wrist and pulls you down across his lap._ Keep looking at him, Gryffindor! _You struggle to get up, but he lifts his leg over the backs of your knees trapping you. He places his hand on your back, so you can’t move. You are terrified and exhilarated,_ ” Ginny noticed Snape look in their direction. They were both looking at him intently. “Don’t you dare look away, Hermione. What kind of Gryffindor would you be? Where was I? Oh yes! _Your heart is pounding_ ,” Ginny slapped her hand down hard on the table causing Hermione and a few others around her to jump. Ginny continued whispering in her ear, “ _The first slap on your bum startles you._ ” Ginny slapped the table again, _“another slap on your ass. It hurts, but you want more. By the third one you can feel him hard against your abdomen, and you’re wet._ ” Ginny smiled devilishly at the Professor who was still glaring at them. “You do realize he could be looking into your mind right now, don’t you?”

Hermione shot up from the table knocking over her glass of pumpkin juice. She was red with embarrassment and somewhat breathless. She quickly turned and walked out of the Great Hall without a word to Ginny.

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Ginny invited Hermione to help her get settled in the head girl dorm. To Hermione’s relief, they were able to finish sprucing up the place without Ginny mentioning Professor Snape, spankings, or erections. Hermione was disappointed that she wasn’t off the hook as far as that subject was concerned.

Ginny said, “You just need a little sexual awakening, Hermione. Not that I blame you of course. My brother doesn’t exactly seem the type to inspire lust.”

Hermione giggled and slapped at her playfully. Perhaps Ginny was right. Maybe she really did need some sort of awakening, not that she would ever admit it. After her heat-of-the-moment kiss in the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, Hermione couldn’t help but remember him abandoning her and Harry in the woods. Horcrux or not, he left her. She deserved better than someone who would be so careless with her feelings regardless of their own insecurities. “Gin,” she took a brief pause to pluck up her courage, “I’m not a virgin.”

Ginny eyes went wide, “When? Why didn’t you tell me? Oh gods, it wasn’t my brother, was it?”

“NO!” Hermione said waving off the other girl’s disgust. “Ron and I kissed, but afterwards, all I could think of was how he had left us. And Ronald being who he is, pretended like it never happened. I was feeling hurt and really confused.” Ginny was hanging on every word as if it were some kind of fairy tale. Hermione tried to ignore her and continued, “The day I left to go find my parents, I stopped to see Victor.”

“KRUM?” Ginny squealed. “Oh my god! How was it? I mean, he is so sexy!” The redhead made an exaggerated show of fanning herself.

“It wasn’t quite what I had expected to be honest. I think that’s why I went to him. He seemed to be everything Ron wasn’t. But it was…clumsy and sweaty,” Hermione explained much to Ginny’s disappointment. “I don’t think I was even…aroused. It was more like a task I was completing.”

“So…you didn’t enjoy it?” Ginny seemed completely baffled. 

Hermione shook her head, “But at least it was over pretty quickly.”

“Wow,” said Ginny. “I would have thought a guy like Victor would have stamina.” She giggled.

“How big was it?” Ginny said clutching her side.

“Not as big as I thought it would be,” Hermione frowned. “Do Quidditch players use steroids?”

Ginny looked perplexed. “What are those?”

Hermione burst out in uncontrollable laughter. 


	2. The Worst Lie Ever

Hermione quickly pushed away thoughts of Professor Snape as soon as they popped up in her mind. She still felt embarrassed by Ginny’s little anecdote about him. Aside from that, the first day of term went by quickly. Today was going to be another story, however. Her last class today was the first potions class of the term; the first class with Professor Snape. All Hermione had to do was stay focused on the material. If she could do that, she was sure she could get past the nagging thought that her dour potions professor might actually be a sexual being. Every time she pushed the thought away, it resurfaced like an annoying cork one was unsuccessfully attempting to keep submerged.

Seventh year potions class was made up of the few students that had achieved O’s in their OWLS and wished to continue. They had a Wednesday/Friday schedule block of three hours lecture/lab combination. Seven students made up the entire class. There were three Slytherins she didn’t know, Ginny and herself, Luna, and one Huffelpuff she didn’t know. The Slytherin girl with long blonde hair “accidentally” knocked her binder to the floor on her way in. This seemed to be how she ended up alone at the front right desk nearest Professor Snape’s. Gin and Luna had already been seated together, and it didn’t leave Hermione much of a choice.

Hermione kept her eyes on her desk as Professor Snape moved about the class giving his beginning of term introduction. He set them to read the first two chapters until the end of class. Hermione was happy to comply, burring herself in her book. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Professor Snape sweep out of the classroom and into the storage room.

“Hermione,” she heard Ginny whisper from a few rows behind her. Hermione saw a paper airplane sailing through the air in her direction. Hermione shook her head, thinking that wasn’t the class to pass notes in. Just before it was within her reach, she saw Ginny’s eyes go wide, and a pale, thin fingered hand plucked it from the air in front of her like a ripe piece of fruit.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger,” Professor Snape said in a clipped tone. He spoke slightly louder to address the class this time, “I am sure you are all aware, this class is not a requirement. Should you find yourself questioning your desire to be here and be respectful, the door is always open,” he gestured toward the door. “You are free to leave any time you wish, so long as you do not make the grave mistake of trying to return.” He turned back to Hermione, “Have I made myself clear, Miss Granger?”

“Perfectly, Sir,” Hermione replied not looking up at him. Hermione left as soon as the class was dismissed. She didn’t stop to wait for Ginny until she reached the third floor. Hermione was surprised to see Ginny only a moment later running up to her like a banshee was chasing after her.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione!” Ginny said gasping for air. “So stupid of me. Don’t know what the hell I was thinking!”

“It’s all right, Gin. I’m over it now that I’m out of there,” Hermione reassured her.

“You don’t understand,” Ginny gave her a pained yet apologetic look. “You know how I said I was going to write something for you?”

Hermione nodded, not being able to tell were this was going.

“That was it. I charmed it to look like a note. Gods, Hermione! HE HAS IT!” Ginny whined.

“Well, I’m sure if I tell him what it is, he would consider returning it,” Hermione tried to calm her down.

Ginny went white, “You CAN’T! Let’s just pray he throws it away without even looking at it.”

“Well, what was it about?” Hermione was getting fed up with this nonsense. She looked at her disapprovingly.

Ginny shook her head, “I don’t want to tell you. Besides, if he does figure it out, which he WON’T,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “you’re better off not having to lie when you tell him you didn’t know anything about it. Trust me, Hermione. Thank Merlin my name isn’t on it.”

Hermione huffed, “You are being awfully dramatic. I’m going to the library to study before dinner. You coming?” Ginny declined holding up her quidditch robes.

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Hermione sat on her bed after dinner to get away from the chatter of the common room. She opened her potions text to where she had left off at the end of class when she heard a tapping on her window. She opened it to find a rather intimidating looking black owl perched upon her sill. She moved closer to remove the scroll from his leg, but he screeched loudly at her. She picked up a piece of a dry biscuit from a tin on her dresser and held it up to him. After looking closely at the crumbs in her hand, the owl straightened itself to its fullest height and turned its head away as if it had been offended.

“Well aren’t you pleasant,” she huffed at the bird grabbing the parchment. As soon as the bird was free from the string, it rapped its wings to take off in flight hitting her in the face in the process. “Complete ass!,” she scolded the bird who could no longer hear her. Hermione unrolled the small scroll and recognized the handwriting immediately. She read:

_Miss Granger,_  
_My classroom. Now._  
_Professor S. Snape_

She groaned. _What an ominous note!_ She swore if parchment could growl it would have at her. What could she have done? She racked her mind for any possible reason for the demand for her presence other than Ginny’s little ill timed note that was not a note, but she kept coming up blank. She was still mostly in uniform. She had her skirt, white button up shirt, and shoes on. Hermione decided that it would be his problem if she weren’t in full uniform with cloak and all considering he was the one calling on her at nearly 8pm.

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Hermione gently knocked on the potions classroom door. She was a bundle of tightly wound nerves and wrung her hands behind her back waiting. Patiently…waiting. Just as she was about to knock again, Professor Snape snapped the door open. He swiftly motioned her into the room as he stepped aside to allow her in.

“Sit,” he commanded pointing to the seat at the work station in front of his desk, which she coincidentally occupied during his class earlier that day. Hermione sat and watched him take his place at his desk. She saw the paper airplane and wondered if it meant he hadn’t figured out it had been transfigured. Still, the fake note could be why he called her here. She watched as her professor rubbed his temples forcefully. She thought better of saying anything at all considering she didn’t know why she was there. He finally spoke when she thought she could bare the silence no longer. “What within all the circles of Hell inspired _this_?” he seethed without opening his eyes.

“Sir, that’s hardly appropriate,” she scoffed at his language toward her. She knew she didn’t deserve it, after all.

His eyes snapped open and met hers, “That was my sentiment entirely.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about,” she quipped. It was the truth…well sort of.

Hermione watched him unfold the airplane and read the note, “thought you would enjoy this.” He set the paper down and with a pass over the paper with his wand, the plane transformed into what appeared to be a few sheets of paper. Ginny’s story. Her heart sank. She still didn’t know what to say, so she looked down to her fingernails and began fidgeting. She figured _sit and take it_ was still the best approach. He looked back up to her as he continued, “which dim-witted friend of yours thought I would be bested by second year transfiguration, Miss Granger?” he spoke in a dangerously low voice. He apparently noticed Hermione’s surprise, as he continued, “Don’t think I am unaware that you were on the receiving end of this when I intercepted it. If you tell me who wrote _this_ ,” he said pushing the papers forward slightly, “then I will let you go, and we will _never_ speak of it again.”

Hermione started to panic. She wasn’t about to rat Ginny out. She steeled herself and stated, “I did it. It’s mine. I wrote it.” She stiffened in her bar stool waiting for the consequences. When he didn’t say anything she glanced up to make sure he was still seated at his desk. Professor Snape cocked his head to the side, raised an eyebrow at her, and twisted one corner of his lips into what one could only describe as the smirk of the devil himself. Hermione was completely unnerved by his amusement with her answer. She had a feeling she had made a terrible mistake. There it was again. That long excruciating silence. His eyes roved over her, calculating.

  
Finally he spoke. He spoke in the haughtiest tone she has ever heard from him, “your eager willingness to claim ownership, Miss Granger, leads me to only one conclusion.” She could see something dangerous flicker in his eyes.

“And what would that be, Sir?” she pretended not to feel like a mouse who wandered into a snake pit.

“That you have not read it, nor do you have _any_ idea what is says,” he nearly laughed the words out. Professor Snape laughing, or almost laughing was more frightening than him yelling. Her mind was telling her to run like hell, but her body was frozen to the stool she sat upon. She remained silent. “A name, Miss Granger. Now,” he persisted. When Hermione looked away from him and remained silent for a moment, he spoke again, “You haven’t. read. it…Let us remedy that. Shall we?”

Hermione watched as he scooped up the pages and walked the two steps around his desk to stop in front of her workbench. He smoothed out the pages in front of her with his pale slender digits before leaning back on his desk. The look of triumph on his face made Hermione want to vomit. She wondered if Ginny had written some morbid murder or something.

“Read it to me,” he demanded with a raised eyebrow. Professor Snape crossed his arms over his chest and waited expectantly.

Hermione closed her eyes if only to escape for a fleeting second before looking down at the pages. She cleared her throat and began to read, “ _I yawned and looked at my watch. Realizing it was after curfew, I threw my essay and books into my bag before hurrying out of the library. I was relieved to see the halls were deserted. As I approached the staircase, the sound of soft, sure footsteps fell upon my ears. I sprinted to the nearest darkened corridor and flattened myself against the stone wall in an alcove._ ” Hermione paused. One paragraph down…thirty more to go.

“Go on,” he instructed.

She continued, “ _As the footsteps drew nearer, my heart beat sped up in anticipation, and I struggled to steady my breathing. I shut my eyes tightly and held my breath when the footsteps stopped no more than ten feet from where I stood frozen in terror. I fought my lungs need for oxygen as the silence drew out into the night, only to inhaled sharply as a tall lean figure exploded forward at me, pinning me to the wall. Long fingers grabbed me firmly by the throat, and I whimpered in fear._

_“Please,” I pleaded with the figure to let me go._

_“Please what,_ ” Hermione stopped reading. She gritted her teeth upon seeing the next words.

“Suspenseful isn’t it? Please continue,” Professor Snape said coldly.

Hermione started the sentence again, _“Please what, Miss Granger?” purred the deep faceless voice._

_I stiffened realizing who had me trapped; whose body was so firmly against my own. The desire to flee, the desire to free myself from this figure vanished taking my fear with it. I remained silent as I could no longer remember why I had been begging. I felt the ghost of his breath on my ear.”_

Hermione begged all the gods she had ever read about that this was going to take a different direction than it seemed to be heading. She was going to kill Ginny Weasley if she ever saw her again. Wanting to get this over with, she pressed on, “ _And I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave,” he whispered, his lips caressing my ear with every word. His words would have cut me had I not been distracted by the clenching, tugging feeling in my_ ,” Hermione paused before finishing the paragraph. All she could muster at this point was an angry hurried tone that contradicted the words coming out of her mouth. “ _lower abdomen. I knew he felt it, as every fluttering muscle in my core and every raise of my chest was met with his hard, formidable form. I couldn’t get a full breath as the lack of space between us wouldn’t allow it._ ” Hermione stopped reading. How the hell was she supposed to continue? _Dead! Ginny was dead,_ she promised herself.

Hermione wasn’t sure how relieved she should be when Professor Snape moved toward her. She was glad to not be reading, but gods, this was the most the humiliating thing she had ever experience. He irritatingly strummed his fingers on the table in front of her. She didn’t dare look up at him. It was far too embarrassing.

“Do you have a name for me now, Miss Granger?” he said as if he were asking for her bloody homework. He seemed completely unfazed. It wasn’t fair. He should be just as uncomfortable as she was. “Or are you sticking by your declaration of authorship?” Hermione said nothing staring off into the corner of the room. “If this is your… _work of art_ …why are you blushing?” he questioned smoothly.

“Perhaps it is because I had not intended to read it to anyone, Sir” she said through gritted teeth. He was intentionally being a total ass. She was furious with Ginny, and becoming furious with him for not ending this charade. Like a bat in the night circling its prey he descended upon her. In the blink of an eye he was standing behind her. Her heart hammered in her chest. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but the fear was still there. What was he going to do?


	3. Hermione's Meltdown

  
Hermione cringed as she heard the scraping of barstool legs abrading the stone floor until, with a clink, the stool hit hers. His hand grasped the table next to her. She heard the swishing of his robes as he swung his left leg over the stool, his thigh hovering near her backside. She watched as he stretched his right leg, long and lean, out next to hers; his shoe touching hers. _It’s only a shoe, nothing to panic about,_ she told herself, but her stomach disagreed with her rationale. Hermione’s breathing slowed to almost nothing with her Professor practically straddling the side of her. His hand moved toward the paper, and she quickly pulled hers into her lap. Her hands were nervous fidgeting fists, and she couldn't show that weakness, lest he pounce. 

“If, at any time, a name happens to _pop_ into your mind, let me know, and you will be free to leave. Until then, since I am feeling _generous_ , I will not force you to read anymore, seeing as you are so unprepared,” he spoke in a hushed voice, but he was close enough for every word to reach her. She closed her eyes knowing there was more in store for her. “However, this has only just begun to get interesting.” He moved the paper, so it was slightly facing him. “Now. Where were we?” Hermione took a deep breath, but with the oxygen, came the realization that he was close enough to see her every move, her every twitch, and every pulse of her erratic heart. Hermione could do nothing but stare at her hands and try to breath like a normal human being. Unfortunately the latter caused her to take in his heady scent; the scent Ginny had told her about. Warned her about.

He began to read slowly in his baritone voice, his confidence never wavering, _“Without thinking I reached up and tangled my hands in his long black hair.”_ To Hermione’s horror, she realized who the figure was, why Ginny was stark white when he snatched the plane, and the words ‘sexual awakening’ rang in her ears. She instinctively brought her hand up to cover her open mouth. A snort of derision from him indicated his acknowledgment of her realization. The vehemently denied truth that she had not read this or been privy to it, was a swelling elephant shaped balloon ready to burst from the pressure. Her thoughts clouded what he was reading, but only momentarily, _“Jagged teeth nipping at my lower lip. He pulled away from the frantic kiss far enough to spin me around. I braced myself against the wall as his body returned to mine. His long, thin fingers trailed delicately up the sides of my thighs. They continued upward under my skirt until they found what they sought; the waistband of my white cotton panties. I felt his fingers curl under and slide them down to my knees.”_

Hermione’s mouth, which had been very dry just minutes ago, now seemed to be producing an unnatural amount of saliva. His words, or Ginny’s coming out of his mouth rather, and his closeness stirred something deep within her that only deepened her embarrassment. She squeezed her thighs together slightly, hoping like hell he wouldn’t notice. She deeply regretted wearing her hair up, as every word he spoke spiraled in the air around her exposed neck. She was on fire in more ways than one. Even though she loathed admitting it, she was more aroused than she had ever been. She flattened her hands on her thighs and tried to rub away the sweat to no avail. It was then that she realized he had stopped reading. She turned her head slightly in his direction for the first time since he sat down, so she could see him in her peripheral vision.

  
He was watching her. She grimaced in her discomfort. He spoke softly, “Do you have a name to give me, Miss Granger?” She was in way to deep to give Ginny up now. She shook her head no. “So, I am to take it you wish for me to continue then?” he whispered almost gently. She nodded slowly. It wasn’t as if she had much of a choice, right? Then why did it feel like she just admitted to a shameful, dirty secret? She saw him turn back to the paper in front of them, and as he started to read once again, she felt his hand press gently on the small of her back. She nearly blacked out at the sensation. All the frazzled electricity running rampant within her came to a tangled mind numbing collision. Once again, she was completely unaware of what Professor Snape was saying. She was almost panting now, and there was no way in bloody hell he couldn’t feel it. The wet heat pooling between her legs was making it hard to sit still. She grabbed hold of the sides of her stool. She was holding on for dear life; to keep her hands off of him. To keep them off of herself!

Hermione’s hearing snapped back to her when she heard Professor Snape say, _“engorged member deep within me. My hardened nipples painfully scraped the stone wall. I began to cry out in ecstasy, but his hand quickly covered my mouth. “Quiet my little lioness, someone might hear you,” he said sucking my earlobe into his mouth.”_ Hermione’s mind was drawn back to the painful throbbing between her legs. Her ears were buzzing, and she was willing him to either remove his hand from her back or put it to better use. _No, remove it. Definitely remove it_ , she told herself sternly. _It’s the stupid story that’s gotten me all worked up, certainly not Professor Snape. It wouldn’t be half as bad if he wasn’t slightly pushing into my back while reading about how story Snape was fucking story Hermione from behind._ It put her there, in the story, and he _knew_ he was doing that to her. _Bastard_!

Hermione suddenly noted that Professor Snape had stopped reading. Without warning, he stood abruptly, pushing his stool back in the process. Hermione inhaled sharply when he leaned slightly over her and rested his hand on the table in front of him. _Is it over, what is he going to do now,_ she thought starting to panic.

“One of your little friends is trying to get me fired, but it’s not going to work. I have never bedded a student, so any investigation into my conduct will be futile,” he spoke quickly and cut her off as she tried to protest. “It is in your best interest to hold your tongue, so if you were ever capable of such a thing, now would be the time,” he said in a hurried whisper near her ear.

_He thinks we’re trying to get him fired? Ridiculous! Although, it could be worse,_ she thought as she sat stiffly with him hovering over her. Hermione could sense someone was coming, as neither of them was speaking, and there was a looming anxiety growing inside her.

  
Hermione heard the classroom door swing open followed by the voice of Headmistress McGonagall, “Severus, I was wondering if I might have a word. Miss Granger? It’s a bit late. I trust you haven’t gotten yourself a detention.”

“Actually, Minerva,” Professor Snape said standing up straight, “Miss Granger has once again skipped ahead in the syllabus. She was having a meltdown about an essay I haven’t even assigned yet.” Hermione relaxed a bit and thanked the Gods that he too, apparently, did not want the Headmistress to know what they had been conversing about. Professor Snape continued, “It seems no matter how many times I tell her, she does not understand that if she expects me to give her an “ _O_ ”, she has to put in the _effort_.” Hermione’s cheeks were growing warmer still. _I cannot believe he just said that,_ she thought.

“I see. Miss Granger, are you feeling well? You look at bit feverish,” McGonagall said sounding slightly concerned.

“Oh no. I’m fine. Really. Sometimes the,” Hermione paused. Why couldn’t she come up with better words, any other words, “pressure gets to my head.” She could practically hear Professor Snape smirk at her words. “I’ll just be going, then.” Hermione stood up from the stool and turned toward the isle the Headmistress was standing in, but her heart plummeted into her stomach when she heard Professor Snape speak.

“Not. So. Fast, Miss Granger,” he said coldly to her. She turned to look back at him. She could feel her nostrils flare. Why couldn’t he just let her leave? “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked as he glanced down at the pages on the table in front of him briefly. “Wouldn’t want to throw away all of _your_ hard work, now would you?” he said with a smirk.

Hermione glared at him, her back to the Headmistress. She spoke in the most respectful tone she could while giving him the dirtiest of looks, “Well, as you have kindly pointed out, Sir, this is nothing to be proud of. It turns out the specimen I chose to write about just wasn’t _exciting_ enough.” He looked amused still, which annoyed her beyond belief. Hermione grabbed the papers off of the desk and left the classroom as quickly as she could without looking like she was running from snatchers.

Hermione ran from the dungeons all the way to Gryffindor tower. She clutched her side as she spoke the password, and huffed into the common room.

“Damn, Hermione. You look like you’ve been shagged six ways to Sunday,” Hermione heard a sixth year girl say.

Hermione ignored her and went into the girl’s bathroom. She groaned as she looked in the mirror. Sweaty curls clung to the back of her neck, and she was completely flush, _due to the run_ she told herself. She splashed cold water on her face in an effort to cool her overheated body. That didn’t quite shake away the last hour of her life, so she took as cold of a shower as she could tolerate. She climbed into bed not wanting to talk to anyone, not even Ginny.


	4. Encore

  
Hermione had made up her mind not to tell Ginny what happened. It was too embarrassing; her body’s reaction to him was too embarrassing. Hermione spent the next day burring herself in her schoolwork. She was able to avoid looking up to the staff table during meals. The day was finally over, but she was struggling to fall asleep. Her mind kept returning to her professor and the way she had responded to his touch. She felt badly that he thought, after all he had done, they were trying to get him sacked. Still, at least he didn’t think she had a crush on him. That would be far more embarrassing. She fought off each and every thought and finally fell asleep.

~~~~~

“See me after class, Miss Granger,” Professor Snape ordered peering down into her cauldron.

  
She wasn’t sure what she had done. Her potion was supposed to be red not pink, but it was still closer to what it should be than anyone else’s. They were suddenly alone in the classroom, but Hermione didn’t think anything of it.

“Come here, Miss Granger,” he commanded pointing to the floor next to his chair behind his desk. Nervously, she walked toward him. Her heart was pounding furiously, and it seemed to echo in the dungeon. “Your performance in this class has been unsatisfactory because you have allowed yourself to become distracted,” he explained. She nodded in understanding and looked to the ground. She hated disappointing him. “Only naughty girls get distracted in class by dirty fantasies of their professors. Do you know what naughty girls get in my class?” he asked her in a stern voice.

“Spankings, Sir,” Hermione answered knowingly. He had warned her before after all.

“Over my knee,” he instructed leaning back in his chair.

~~~~

Hermione woke with a start, sweat clinging to her nightshirt. “Oh Gods,” she groaned burring her face in her pillow. She did not want thoughts of him invading her mind. _Why_? She asked herself. _Why couldn’t it have been anyone else?_ It was only an hour before breakfast, so she got up to take a shower. _Potions today_ , she remembered lathering her hair. It seemed, the more she willed time to slow down, the more quickly it passed. Finding her seat in potions hurriedly, she opened her book and tried to read to escape any unwanted eye contact with Professor Snape.

“You’re going to be brewing today. The instructions are on the board. Step nine requires precision, so I’ll be coming around to demonstrate the dissection of kraken tentacles as I do not wish for any of you to blow up my classroom today,” Professor Snape said from his desk. “Get started.”

Hermione started to worry. There were an odd number of students in the class, and she was the only one working at her own table. It would be all the more awkward for him to assist her without the comfort of another person nearby. As everyone started gathering their materials she saw him walk over to the sink. He appeared to be chopping the heads off of a bucket of Kraken and cleaning the guts out. There was a rather fishy odor in the room, and she heard a classmate complain about it under his breath behind her. Keeping her head down, she started on her work, occasionally glanced up to see Professor Snape hunched over a pair of students desk with his back to her. He slowly made his way from the back of the room to the front. She could hear him at the desk behind her and tensed knowing he would come to her next.

“Don’t forget to add them one at a time,” he snarled at the boy behind her. She held her breath as he came around in front of her desk. He kept walking until he was at the opposite end of the front row. _Odd_ , she thought. _Is he avoiding me too?_ She continued to work slowly because she did not want to get to the step that need the Kraken tentacle rings and have to sit and wait for him. She knew she would be a nervous wreck trying to keep herself busy with something useless. The last thing she wanted was for her mind to wander to the dream she’d had last night, Ginny’s damn story, or him reading it to her. She had to keep her mind on appropriate things.

Hermione tried to clear her mind as she felt Professor Snape’s robes brush the backs of her legs as he swept behind her. Scrape. He slid the empty stool next to her out to sit. The noise was like chewing on tinfoil ever since the other night. Not wanting to look at him she focused on the small buckets he set down containing long pinkish tentacle in one and water in the other. They were somewhat grotesque looking with red brown suction cup things on the bottom side. She bit her lip out of nervous habit.

“I won’t require you to demonstrate this skill, but I expect you to pay close attention. All the fluids need to be extracted to ensure combustion does not occur when it comes in contact with the powdered dragon horn,” he explained taking one long thick tentacle out of the bucket and setting it on a cutting board he placed between them. His posture was turned slightly toward her. She nodded watching him pat the wet limb with a cloth to absorb some of the unnecessary moisture.

“The fluid must be removed before cutting the cups off, or they are essentially useless,” he continued. She looked up at him, but looked back at the cutting board because he was looking at her. She could feel herself beginning to blush. Gods, she hated not being in control of her body. “They must each be squeezed from the base to the tip,” he explained taking one of the suction cup things between his thumb and forefinger. He pinched them together gently and pulled up to the top of the cup, as if he were milking a tiny cow. Frothy liquid bubbled out of it and onto his fingers. Hermione swallowed hard and made a pained face looking at the bubbly white fluid. Instantly, she knew that was why the room smelled so strongly of fish. He continued on, working the substance out of each cup seeming completely unaffected by the odd show he was putting on.

Hermione couldn’t help but stare at his hands, well groomed and exceptionally clean aside from the sea creature secretions. She struggled not to think about how sensual it looked as he rolled each red cup expertly, working all the milky liquid out. _Sick! You’re sick! I hate Ginny so much_ , Hermione thought. Finally he wiped off his hands. She hoped he was done because she didn’t think she could continue watching him do that anymore.

“I think that should do it,” he said to himself holding up the tentacle after having rinse it in the tub of water sitting next to the one containing the tentacles. Spreading it out on the cutting board, he picked up a long scalpel. “A thin membrane attaches each cup to the limb. That’s where you want to cut. See this?” he asked pushing one cup with his thumb to the side as much as it would allow.

Hermione leaned down and looked at the faint white line between the red cup and the pink fleshy tissue. “Yes, Sir,” she said. She chanced a glance back up at him. He seemed absorbed in what he was doing, and leaned down to get a closer look. With his practiced hands, he pressed the blade to the thin line and said, “you really don’t need to cut so much as push on it with the blade. In spite of being strong, it’s very thin.” Hermione watched as he moved the hand holding the tentacle back and forth while keeping the blade still. The cup was slowly falling away from the meatier part.

“Feel how thin it is,” he directed holding the cup upside down in his hand with the flimsy white membrane face up. Tentatively, she touched the wet tissue. She looked up at him and pulled her hand away quickly. He set it down and moved on to the next one. Her eyes locked on his hands holding the meaty thing. The pink muscle depressed slightly under the gentle pressure of his fingers. She drew a shaky breath as the image of her skin reacting the same way under his fingers entered her mind. The noise made him look at her sharply, and she cleared her throat and schooled her expression to one of interest in an attempt to pretend she was not uncomfortable.

  
This was by far one of the grossest things she has ever seen, yet she was ready to rub herself frantically in the lavatory to get rid of the aching between her legs. Damn him and his hands. Thank Merlin she couldn’t smell him over the robust fish scent that filled the room. One by one, she watched him remove the cups. Finally. Finally, the last was free from the tentacle, and he said, “add them one at a time on step nine. You may return to your brewing.” He swiftly stood up and grabbed the cutting board and both jars before heading back to the sink.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief that it was over. _It could have been worse,_ she thought. She left the potions classroom quickly after class ended and waited for Ginny just outside. After watching Snape milk that thing, she decided she did want to talk to Ginny, after all. Once Ginny was through the doorway and starting to walk back up to the main floor of the castle, Hermione stepped up to match her pace. “Hey, I was wondering if I could talk to you later,” she said to her.

“Of course. Come to my room after practice. That was some class huh? Most confusing thing I’ve ever seen, to be honest. Didn’t know if I wanted to vomit or ask Snape to milk me,” Ginny laughed looking around to make sure no one else heard.

Hermione smiled thinking, _thank god it wasn’t just me._ She rolled her eyes at Ginny and said, “I want to get a head start on my arithmancy homework, but I’ll come to your room later.” Hermione parted ways with Ginny and headed to the Gryffindor common room. She hadn’t decided what she was going to tell Ginny yet. It was nearly nine o’clock when the Gryffindor quiddich team came into the common room. Finally, she thought heading to the head girl’s room.

“Boys!,” Ginny fumed marching up to Hermione who was waiting outside her door. “I swear you tell them one thing, and they hear the exact opposite!” Ginny opened the door and led her inside. She yanked off her practice gear and continued her tirade, “Jacob and Sebastian need about another years worth of practice to be able to fly in sync with one another. I swear, if they don’t get it together, I’m going to beat them to death with one of Slytherin’s bats!”

“Sorry, Gin. I’m sure you can whip them into shape before season starts,” Hermione offered in condolence.

“Oh, never mind,” Ginny waved her off. “What did you want to talk to me about anyhow?”

“Well, Professor Snape stopped me in the corridor yesterday. After a brief but degrading lecture on passing notes during class, he gave me back the airplane note,” she said looking at her hands. She was a horrible liar but hoped Ginny wouldn’t question it.

“Oh! I guess that means he didn’t think to look into it. Honestly, I would have done more than a simple spell to it had I thought anyone else was going to get their hands on it. That’s a relief. Gods! Can you imagine the howler I’d have gotten from mum? Wait,” she said as she put her hair brush back on her vanity. “that means you must’ve read it then. Well, what did you think?” she asked trying to contain a grin.

Hermione felt herself blush, but answered honestly in spite of herself. Lying about this wasn’t going to help her get what she came here for. “You may have convinced me to see things in a different light.” That was the best she could do. She was not, not, not about to say, _‘you made me want to shag Snape’_.

“Ha! Welcome to the dark side Hermione Granger, where all the fun is had,” she responded giggling like a prepubescent girl. “Ok, tell me honestly. Class today?” she asked fanning her face with her hand. “Squeeze from the base all the way to the tip,” she gave a horrible impression of Professor Snape, “and then watch all that white stuff come out,” she finished laughing hysterically. “How he kept a straight face through all of that, I’ll never know,” she added for good measure.

  
“Ya. It was… _interesting_ to say the least,” Hermione agreed but wanted to move on. “Anyway, I was wondering if you could,” she said as Ginny sat on her bed and took a bite of an apple, “writemeanotherone.”

“Huh?” Ginny questioned wiping her mouth.

“Oh, hell!” Hermione exclaimed. “Could you write me another one?” She looked away from her feeling a little ball of self-loathing erupting in the pit of her stomach.

“Well, well, well. It seems the devil has found a way into your mind,” she mocked.

  
“Gin,” Hermione warned, “don’t you think it was hard enough for me to ask? I don’t need you making me feel worse about it.”

“Oh, all right. I was only joking. I’m glad you liked it, actually. I can write you one about someone else if that would make you feel less embarrassed about it,” she offered her.

“Um,” Hermione began. _Damn_. “I want one like the last, only…”

“What?” Gin inquired. “I can take constructive criticism. I’ll have to take loads of it if I ever actually want to publish something.”

Hermione smiled at her and nodded, “It was brilliant but a bit out of character for him, I think anyway. I mean I can’t see him taking anyone in a hallway in the school. I’m not quite sure how to say this, but he seems more the….i don’t know, the dominant type more than the midnight stalker type. Don’t you think?”

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll have to give it some thought,” she replied with a small nod to herself. “I’m really beat, and I have to get up early tomorrow. I’ll let you know when I have it ready for you. And NOT during any class!” she promised.

“Thanks, Gin,” Hermione said standing to leave.


	5. The Potion's Master: An Introduction

  
Over the weekend, Hermione found herself daydreaming about Professor Snape. _What did he do in his free time? What did he sleep in? Did he have a bare chest, or was it furry like Victor’s had been. How many women had he slept with? Was he bigger than Victor down there? Would he be as confident in the bedroom as he was in the rest of his life?_ Question after question whirled around in her mind. Even if he had been trying to intimidate her, his behavior alluded to a sensual man, and that had really thrown her. 

She spent a good deal of time reading ahead in her textbooks out by the pitch on Sunday. The weather was so nice still, and it was a chance to show her support for the team. Merlin knew she was going to have to turn Ginny down in the future when it got colder and homework started to pile up. While she was taking a break between chapters, she came to the conclusion that Ginny was a more skilled player than Harry ever was. Her leadership and strategy far exceeded Harry’s abilities. She really was grateful to have a female friend for a change, even if Gin was a little rough around the edges having grown up with a bunch of boys. She smiled to herself knowing Harry was the on the receiving end of Ginny’s sexual creativity because he was a rather shy guy when it came to matters of such nature.

Monday night while Hermione was purposefully not looking at the head table, she wondered just how many students had fancied Professor Snape at one time or another. That led her down a path of wondering what it was like having him as Head of House. _Gods_ , should couldn’t imaging going to him for some of the things she had Professor McGonagall. While it was clear that he had always favored the students in his own house, she wasn’t really sure if he actually liked them either. _Had any of the Slytherin girls ever come on to him?_

Ginny interrupted her train of thought, “I have that thing that you asked for. Come to my room later.”

Hermione nodded in response. She had a hard time keeping her mind off of what was in store for her while she finished her food. Eventually, she found herself knocking on Ginny’s door. She wasn’t sure what to expect. She was certain Ginny couldn’t out due the last one, only because Professor Snape wouldn’t be reading it to her. She suddenly worried that Ginny thought she was desperate. Determined not to seem too anxious, she struck up a conversation about Harry and Ron.

  
After discussing the latest news on their auror training, Ginny pulled a black leather bound journal out of her desk. “So, I thought about what you said, and I tried to make this one more realistic. She handed the book to Hermione and asked, “Would you mind if I use you two for practice? I mean, would it be okay if I wrote more stories for you to look over? It’s just that no one else knows, and I don’t have any other feedback.” Ginny suddenly looked shy.

  
Hermione was suspicious seeing as how she had already written some pretty scandalous stuff in her opinion. On the other hand, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Having a book to use for her pleasure was an exciting prospect. Cringing at how that sounded, she agreed in spite of her guilty conscience. Perhaps Ginny liked writing about them. _Gods_ , the stories may even be Ginny’s own fantasies about the surly man. Not wanting to think about that, she picked up a magazine sitting on desk.

Ginny hesitated before saying, “I have a lot of ideas in mind already, but I’m looking for an objective eye. One that won’t make assumptions about me based on a fictional story I write.” Hermione looked at her with some confusion. Did she think she was going to judge her? She had asked her to write more sex stories about one of their teachers for Merlin’s sake. “Look, it’s like this. If I wrote about a character who wanted to commit murder, you wouldn’t think I was secretly a serial killer, would you?” Hermione shook her head. “Well, that’s what I mean, is all. I like to use things I’ve read about and heard of as a sort of challenge. So, you promise me that you won’t read too much into it? I want to write about more than just what I fancy. I want to reach a bigger audience, you know. It'll make me a better writer.”

“Of course, Gin,” Hermione answered. “In spite of what some people may think, I can be open minded. Besides, I’m not really in a position to judge, now am I?”

The red head laughed at her, “I suppose you’re right. Well, that one’s sort of short because of the extra time I had to spend whipping the team into shape. Bring it back when you’re done, so I can keep writing in it.” Ginny waved her wand over the cover of the journal grinned at Hermione.

Hermione looked at the recently add silver lettering at the top. The Potions Master: A collection of short stories. Hermione rolled her eyes and tucked the book under her arm before retreating to her bed. She really needed to finish the extra credit Charms assignment, so she put the journal under her socks in her drawer. It would have to wait until tomorrow night.

  
The next day seemed to drag on forever. Hermione knew it was because she was itching to read the story Ginny had written for her. When she was sure her housemates had fallen asleep, she pulled the book from her drawer. She sat on her bed, curtains closed around her and opened the small black journal to the first page. It read: The Potions Master. Smiling to herself and settling back against her propped up pillows, she turned the page and began to read:

_Red Handed_  
_The entire first semester of term, I spent every free minute making alterations to a potion I had already worked out in theory. I only need pearl powder to complete the brew, and I would be able to test it. Pearl powder was on backorder, however. I was going to have to either wait eight long weeks for it, or get it somewhere else. The thought of taking ingredients from the school stores make my stomach turn, even with having the intention of replacing them. My impatience ultimately won out over my guilty conscience._

_Quietly, I crept into the potions classroom late one December evening. I had no choice but to cast lumos, as the room was completely devoid of light. Dimly light, I let my wand lead the way to the store room. I shut the door behind me and frantically searched the shelves for what I needed. When I saw the jar, I reached up and grabbed it. I let out a small sigh and turned to leave, but a figure in the doorway startled me, almost causing me to drop the jar. S_ _taring down the tip of the potion master’s wand, my heart hammered in my chest. Not only was I looking at a heavy punishment, I wasn’t going to be able to brew my potion. Panic seized me. I tried to explain, “I was going to replace it, Sir. I-“_

  
_“Silence,” he hissed jabbing his wand into my jugular. “This is the second time you have stolen from me, Miss Granger.” His dark eyes reflected the light from the tip of his wand. I swallowed hard, his wand still poking into my neck. “One would think that after six years in this school, you would have learned some respect. Clearly, I have overestimated you.” His nostrils flared. “What will it take to change your reckless disregard for the rules, Miss Granger? You and your friends have already lost a record breaking amount of house points while attending this school. Obviously, that punishment is ineffective.”_

  
_This sounds like a trick question, I thought. “Detention, Sir?” I offered logically. I watched his eyes narrow at me. Perhaps I should have kept quiet. I quickly looked down feeling uncomfortable. I felt small with him towering over me in the tiny room._

_“No,” he said flatly sliding his wand up my neck and under my chin. The slightest bit of pressure made me lift my head back up to meet his eyes again. “You need a punishment you will want to avoid getting again in the future. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the storage room. I squeaked in surprise at the pace he set._

  
_“Sir,” I protested his tight grip. He let go pushing me forward to the front of his desk. My hip hit the edge of the hard wood, and I winced in pain. Never in all of my life have I been treated this roughly by anyone, let alone a teacher._

  
_He swiftly followed to where I stood. “Bend over. Hands flat on the desk,” he barked at me. His hands went to his right cuff and started slipping the neat buttons out of their place._

_“_ _What!?!” I exclaimed. Surely I must have heard him wrong, I told myself._

_“You heard me, Miss Granger,” he spat. “Now, or I’ll do it for you,” he continued dangerously._  
_The look in his eyes frightened me. He was serious. He couldn’t possibly mean to spank me, could he? Apparently, I had waited too long to comply, as I found myself magically bound to the desks. My hands were palms flat on either side of my shoulders, and I couldn’t move them. To my horror, he kicked my feet slightly apart and bound them to the floor._

_I started to panic, “sir, I don’t think this is an appropriate punishment,” I continued to argue while I struggled fruitlessly._

  
_“Well, we can’t trust your judgment. Now, can we? You think stealing is appropriate,” he chided. Smack! His hand came down hard on my ass._

  
_I squealed, but he continued on relentlessly. My backside grew hotter with each stroke, and the heat had the nerve to start spreading. That smoldering serpent slithered it's way between my legs, and I whimpered feeling blood rush to my lady parts. When my clit started throbbing, I tried to stifle a moan out of mortification._

  
_The growl behind me indicated my professor’s frustration. Apparently, he was not satisfied with my reaction to his punishment. “I’m going to break you of your thieving habits one way or another, Miss Granger,” he hissed. I struggled hard against the restraints as I felt him jerk the hem of my skirt up over my bum. “You will learn your lesson before I let you leave,” he stated pulling my knickers down around my knees violently._

  
_“Please, Sir,” I begged him. This was the most humiliated I had ever been. He ignored me and struck skin on skin. The smack echoed in the room, and it stirred the heat pooling between my legs. I bit my lip to keep from moaning wantonly as he touched me so intimately. As I grew wetter, I prayed to Merlin that he wouldn’t see it or feel it, for that matter. Finally, his blows slowed until he ceased his onslaught. I gulped in unsteady breaths of air as he stepped away from me._

  
_“I never imagined you to be such a harlot,” he said mockingly._

_He had noticed. “I’m no such thing!” I practically shouted at him. I fruitlessly struggled to free myself once again._

  
_He stepped back up to me, and I could just feel the fabric of his trousers tease my bare and burning flesh. “Really?” he said snidely. “Then how do you explain this?” he questioned bringing his had to ghost over my wet inner thighs only just missing my swollen clit. I whimpered and trembled not knowing what to do with my nervous excitement or my humiliation. Just then, I felt him lean over me, and his breath tickled my cheek as he hummed, “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”_

_The desperate ache between my legs convinced me that pushing back slightly into him was a great idea. When my bum came in contact with his trousers and the bulge within, he swiftly stepped away. I could practically hear him sneer at me as I choked on a sob._

  
_“Do you know what happens to wonton girls who go around dripping wet?” he asked darkly. I didn’t know what to say to him. Before I realized it, I felt his hand on my blazing bum. He rubbed it around my red globe, dipped between my legs, and warned, “they get unwanted attention.” I trembled at his touch and tried to press into his hand harder. I didn’t care that it was him or that I was stuck to a desk. I just wanted release. “I can’t very well let you leave like this, can I?” he rubbed harder against my swollen lips, “you wreak of arousal, and you won’t make it half way to your tower before being accosted by one of your mindless, testosterone driven peers. Is that what you want?”_

  
_I shook my head and tried to circle my hips so his index finger would circle my aching clit. “Please,” I whined._

  
_“You lie,” he accused. “That’s just what you want. You desperately want to be filled, don’t you?” he whispered imploringly. My juices were coating his fingers liberally, and before I could answer, he pushed one long finger into me._

  
_“Mmm. Yes,” sobbed as he slowly stoked my quivering walls. A second finger joined the first, and I moaned loudly as he quickened his pace. “Please..” I begged for release shamelessly._

  
_“Is this not enough for you?” he chided curling his fingers against my gspot. “You need more, don’t you?....Say it!” he growled in my ear as he pressed his body into mine._

_._  
_“Yes. Please, Sir,” I choked out. Just then I felt the back of his free hand brushing my ass, fumbling with the buttons on his pants. I would have fell to the floor in my dizziness had I not been pinned to the desk when I felt the sensation of his cock sliding against my wet heat. His hand reached around and pressed his member against me harder. He spread my need over his fingers and then over the underneath of his cock, teasing me in the process._

  
_He thrust into me roughly, and I nearly wailed at the invasion. He was thick and ridged. He was relentless. It didn’t take long before he was pounding into me, my hips banging painfully against the desk. I didn’t care though. My vision blurred as he ceaselessly bottomed out almost brutally. Once his hand found its way back to my clit, I quivered under him in uncontrolled ecstasy. I contracted around him rapidly drawing a grunt from him. His erratic thrusting and quiet puffs of breath on my ear indicated his orgasm. It drew on, and he continued fucking me until I felt our fluids leaking out around him._

  
_He slipped free leaving me cold and wet. I found myself freed from the desk and struggled to push myself up. When I turned to face him, he was buttoning the last button on his trousers. He looked me up and down once before casting a cleansing charm on my person. “If I ever catch you stealing from me again, I’ll assign you detention with Filch, and I’ll be sure to tell him how grateful you are when you’re spanked.” He looked at my appalled expression and spoke harshly, “Now, get out.”_

  
_Oh my Merlin_ , Hermione thought. She slammed the book shut, and thrust it under her pillow. Her head was swimming, and she needed to tend to the throbbing that was already demanding attention between her legs. Apparently, spankings were her thing, and she didn’t even know it.


	6. Whiplash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter has the trigger warnings. If you are at all sensitive to anything listed in the archive warnings of this story, please do not read "The Witness."

Wednesday brought a lecture in Potions. Hermione had finally been able to put that story out of her mind. It helped that they were learning about the preparations for particularly volatile ingredients. They discussed the process for pruning Puffapods as well, as they were going to be brewing veritaserum soon. She had managed to stay off his radar that day, but didn’t quite make it the entire class on Friday without interacting with him.

Her mind was wandering away from her work while she was brewing a potion she had already experimented with in her own time. Hermione rested her head in her hand as she lazily stirred her cauldron clockwise 15 times. A muffled voice from behind her made her turn her head, but she was startled to be looking into the heavy black fabric of Professor Snape’s robes. 

Peering over her into her cauldron, he snipped in irritation, “counterclockwise every fifth stir to correct the consistency.” 

She frowned into her cauldron. Damn, she thought, he must think I’m an idiot! She must have mistimed the addition of the slug intestines. Shaking her head at her own carelessness, she buckled down intent on not making another mistake, at least not in his class. Five minutes before the end of class, Hermione began to clean up her work station.

“Friday’s class is being rescheduled to Sunday at 11pm,” Professor Snape drawled from his desk. He glared at Ginny who was whispering to Luna as he continued, “We will be collecting the puffapod beans you will be utilizing at a further date.”

“But Sir, why do we have to do it Sunday night? And that’s a second year Herbology assignment,” one of the Slytherin’s stated.

“I am aware, Mr. Burns. You will need the beans at their most potent state. Sunday is the new moon; therefore, I have rescheduled class to allow you to collect them at the most beneficial time. If you would rather take your chances using subpar ingredients in a volatile potion, you may collect them whenever you see fit. You may not, however, use them in my classroom.”

The Slytherin looked slightly embarrassed, and his lab partner sniggered at him. 

“Sorry this one took so long,” Ginny said handing her the black journal on Saturday afternoon. Hermione was sitting with Ginny while she was getting ready for the Ravenclaw Gryffindor quidditch match. 

“Oh, thanks,” Hermione said tucking it safely into her school bag.

“Ya, ya. Just don’t forget you love me,” the redhead laughed. 

Hermione tried not to be too excited about the story. She really wasn’t sure what to expect. Ginny had written this one for her own entertainment, after all. She couldn’t imagine it would be more immoral than the last one. It wasn’t until she curled up in bed that night that she read:

~~~~~~Warning~~~~~

The Witness

“With my last year at Hogwarts underfoot, I found myself struggling to decide on a field to specialize in. Part of me wanted to be an unspeakable, but the thought was frightening. What if I hated it? Once going in, there’s no going out. I’d be dedicating my life to limited communication with those I care about. My life would be forever shrouded in mystery. I racked my brain trying to find a way to get a better idea of what it would be like to live with so many secrets, to feel so alone. Was I even capable of being stealthy enough? I knew there was a great deal of espionage involved in the job.

Once I determined that the only way to find out would be to try, I had to find a target, someone to watch, someone to study. Trying to kill two birds with one stone, I decided to go with the most mysterious person I knew. The person with the most secrets, the stealthiest imaginable. I chose The Potions Master. 

I knew I should have been ashamed of myself for following him, for spying on the spy. There wasn’t one time, however, that I was tempted to abandon my goal. He was surefooted where I was clumsy, controlled where I was impulsive, and I quickly developed an obsession with watching him. 

He was only slightly more cordial with his coworkers than he was with his students. The sour expression on his face never lifted until he had at least two cups of coffee at breakfast. Frequent trips to the astronomy tower made me wonder if he was paying respects to Dumbledore, or if he was torturing himself for what he had been forced to do. 

In all the hours I spent watching him in the months leading up to Christmas, I learned very little. I couldn’t let it go though because every time I felt my efforts were fruitless, I had to return to his classroom where he would reignite the embers smoldering in my mind. All it ever took was just one look.

His black eyes were penetrating, seeing into one’s soul like only he could do. Master ligilimens often leave one feeling naked and exposed under their gaze. It was for this reason that I practiced occlumency day and night. I wasn’t perfect, but I knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything without digging. With no reason to do such a thing, I felt sure of myself. He wasn’t going to waste his time shuffling through my mind.

The one thing I did learn, though, was how to develop an infatuation with someone. At a certain point, I could no longer deny that I was attracted to him. Nearly every time I thought of him, or followed him, or sat in his class, my palms would sweat, my heart would race, and I would have to dry my knickers afterwards. Gods, it became nearly unbearable. I lost my focus on my studies. I lost too much sleep at night touching myself pretending my hand was his. I knew he would never want me, though. I was growing bitterer by the week and wondered if that was why he was so disagreeable. 

Most of the residents left for winter Holiday, but not me. I couldn’t leave. I had to stay; I had to watch. I was confident in being undetectable at this point. Once I figured out I needed to cast a silencing charm on my shoes, it became so much easier. On the second night of the break, I followed him disillusioned all the way to the dungeons after dinner. I crept behind him past the Slytherin common room and down further under the castle. Once we reached the portrait guarding his door, he muttered the password. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch it, but he lingered inside just long enough before shutting the door that I was able to slip inside the vault. 

Excitement pulsed through my veins. I didn’t give it a moment’s thought that I was trapped inside for an indefinite amount of time. It didn’t matter, you see. I had achieved the ultimate victory. I had won. What, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I was going to get to see all that I had been missing. I watched as he heavily warded the door. He cast several soundproofing charms. I shouldn’t have been shocked that he lived with such paranoia, but I was. I wondered if I was going to become like that too. He stood facing the door, wand in his hand relaxed at his side.

“I think it’s time we had a little chat,” he said quietly while he turned around to face the room. Panic was quickly threatening to overtake me, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. He walked slowly to his couch by the fire unbuttoning his outer robes as he went. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t notice, that I couldn’t feel someone watching me? Were you under the impression that I wouldn’t hear you breathing or detect your perfume just because I couldn’t see you??” He asked. He neatly folded his robe over the back of the couch before sitting down. 

I didn’t know what to do. There was no escape. I was confident he couldn’t see me, but I still felt the need to move away from the fire further from him. I wondered if he meant to kill me. It had never occurred to me that he might feel threatened by what I had been doing. I could have been some crazed Death Eater seeking revenge for all he knew. He certainly didn’t look like a man feeling threatened, though. He looked in control.

“I admit I haven’t decided yet what I’m going to do with you. To you,” he said calmly looking at his fingernails. “I’m feeling generous, so I’ll make you an offer. Confess now, and I’ll be gentle with you.” He summoned a glass of wine and sipped it slowly. Swirling the wine, which may as well have been my blood, around in the glass, he laughed lightly, “don’t you trust me?”

I swallowed hard. This was awful. I did trust him, but I was afraid. Oh, the mess I had gotten myself into. He was never going to forgive me. I didn’t know what I was going to tell him, or how I was going to explain this. I decided the truth would be best. Well, the part about wanting to find out if I wanted to be an unspeakable. Certainly not what it had become. No. I stepped back up to the fire closer to where he sat. My heart stopped when next he spoke.

“Have you convinced yourself that I don’t know who you are?” he said with another small laugh. His tone turned darker, “I know exactly who you are. I know more about you than you know about me, I assure you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you tremble and start to perspire when I stand too close to you?” His eyes scanned the room before returning to his wine glass. “I’ve seen what you think about late at night after everyone else has fallen asleep. I’ve seen all the things you’d have me do to you. You have quite the imagination. I was shocked at first, but after I thought about it, I understood. It all made perfect sense actually. Your incessant searching for praise. A need that only strengthened with each of my rejections. Your desire to be used, your desire for pain. You are quite the masochist. Aren’t you?” he asked. 

“It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? In watching you become obsessed with me, I found that I couldn’t stop myself for finding out what depraved things you’d thought of since I last checked,” he confessed. 

He stood from the couch and walked up to the fire. I dared not breathe. 

“Remove the disillusionment charm. You can either obey me, and I’ll give you want you so desperately want, or you can leave,” he said unwarding the door. “The choice is yours. Punishment, or reward,” he asked with his palms facing up in front of his chest. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, Hermione?”

Deciding to accept my fate, I let the charm dissolve slowly revealing myself beside him. We both stared into the fire, and I was relieved that he hadn’t started to strangle me immediately. He didn’t say anything at first; he just nodded. It was very unsettling. When I didn’t say anything either he turned toward me and said, “Because I’m pleased with your decision, I think I’ll allow you to decide which game we play first.” 

I’d never been more afraid than I was in that moment. I whimpered and looked down at his shoes. I didn’t know what that meant. I was too afraid to ask, so I waited until he said more.

“Which one of your twisted desires would you like for me to indulge you with?” he whispered darkly. 

It took me a few moments to register what he had said. He couldn’t mean what I thought he meant. It wasn’t possible. Still, I couldn’t help but think of a particular fantasy. I couldn’t have misunderstood him. I also couldn’t tell him what I wanted. It was too sordid. It was too shameful. And what if he meant it to be a punishment? What if he really did intend to hurt me? 

He took a step toward me and grabbed me roughly by the chin forcing me to meet his eyes for the first time. A wicked grin spread across his face, and I could see the sinister gleam in his eyes. “Your occlumency is rubbish.” Panic bubbled back up into my esophagus along with my lunch. “You have fifteen seconds to hide,” he growled and let go of my chin. 

“Sir, I’m so sor-“ I stared to say.

He interrupted calmly, “Fourteen.” He smirked at my startled expression and turned his back to me. 

I ran for it. I’d have been stupid not to. Glad the silencing charm was still on my shoes, I flew down the open hallway to the last door I came to. I shut it behind me and found myself in what appeared to be his bedroom. I didn’t have time to let my eyes linger. I knew I had to decide quickly, so I stepped into his wardrobe and stood behind his hanging robes. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the scent of his robes. I couldn’t stop myself from caressing the fabric in awe. 

The sound of the bedroom door opening brought me back to the present. I held my breath, too scared to make a sound. I honestly didn’t know what he had in store for me. I didn’t know if he was going to play out my fantasy or torture me with it. 

“I know you’re in here somewhere,” he taunted. “Why don’t you come out, so we can play?” His footsteps paced the room slowly. I could hear him moving things, curtain or the bed covers maybe. “I know you’d enjoy it. I know what you like. I’ve seen the filthy things you think about. I hope for your sake that those daydreams are what you really want because… I’ve come to want them too. You’ve somehow twisted my mind, brought out the predator in me that I’m sure you knew was already there hiding in me, and I think you should be the one to pay for it. It’s only fair.” I heard footsteps come toward where I was hidden. He was so close I could hear him breathing. “Don’t be afraid. I only intend to hurt you…just a little bit,” he said just before opening the wardrobe door. 

I shrieked as I felt his hand wrap tightly around my upper arm and yank me roughly from where I stood. I stumbled and fell to my knees. When I struggled to get back on my feet, he pulled me by the hair and forced me to look up into his furious eyes. 

“The more you fight, the more this is going to hurt,” he warned. 

Terrified, I kicked at his shin as hard as I could. To my dismay, he only grunted in pain. His balance never wavered. It was obvious to me that I never stood a change once I came into his rooms. He was going to do whatever he wanted with me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Have it your way,” he growled pushing me to the ground near the foot of his bed. 

He stepped over my body and dropped to his knees straddling my body before I could push myself back up. With one hand he pinned my wrists to the ground over my head. The other tugged at his shirt until it came free from his trousers. I whimpered and begged, “please,” half hoping he would let me go and half hoping he would go for his belt next. I was as excited as I was scared. My mind and body were pulling me in two different directions. That was short-lived, however. 

He slid his knees down toward my own and lay the weight of his chest down on mine. He went for my neck biting at my jugular as his hips settled on top of my legs. I couldn’t help but moan as soon as I felt his erection against my thigh. It was branding me with its heat. I felt him let go of my wrists, but I still couldn’t move them. He must have charmed them to the floor. 

His hands slid down my arms and grabbed my breasts, squeezing them painfully. One hand remained there, abusing my nipple, while the other found its way to the button on my trousers. He had them undone in no time and was ruthlessly jerking them down my legs along with my knickers, never letting go of my nipple he had hostage. I forced myself to cry out for him to stop, but I couldn’t help wiggling to aid him in getting my pants off. I was so desperate for him that I had no shame in that moment. His hand came up and grabbed hold of my throat as he repositioned himself between my legs, pushing them apart with his knees. I could feel him prodding at my entrance. He thrust into me without hesitation, and it burned quite a bit. I remained on the floor writhing underneath of him until he had worked himself into a frantic pace. After he climaxed, he rolled off of me.

I lay there catching my breath with him in silence. Eventually, we both stood up from the floor. “I do believe it’s my turn,” he said to me.

When he flicked his wand at me, I looked down at myself and almost gasped. I looked back up at him and hesitated before asking, “this is one of your fantasies?” I tried not to sound accusing. At this point I was by far the most uncomfortable I’d been all night.

“It’s one of your,” he state flatly. When I blanched he said, “I suspected you were in denial about it, and I can understand why.” His eyes traveled over my body hungrily.

I felt very self conscious. Never had I imagined that he’d want this from me or from anyone for that matter. “This is not my fantasy, and I’m not in denial,” I argued.

“Oh?” he arched an eyebrow at me. “Then enlighten me. Why is it that you have never spent time thinking about it-“

“Because I don’t get off on this sort of thing!” I interrupted.

“-YET,” he continued giving me a pointed look, “I see flashes of it when you orgasm, when it’s out of your conscious control?” The silence in the room was deafening. “It’s there and you know it.” He was apparently done waiting around for me to tell him what he wanted to hear because he took my hand. He led me to the chair in the corner of the room where he pulled me down in his lap. Still, I said nothing. I just couldn’t. “You would deny me when I’ve been so accommodating for you?” he questioned. 

He pulled my legs up so my knees were over the arm of the chair and my head was resting against his shoulder. “We don’t have to do this if don’t want to. But be sure because I won’t offer again. You’ll be left wondering, and it will eat away at you,” he spoke gently as he placed his palm flat on my belly.

The fabric of my shirt was thin enough to feel the heat of his touch. My stomach fluttered with nervous excitement, and I felt compelled to burst in to tears. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. I wasn’t ready for it, but I knew I couldn’t tell him no. I knew I’d never be able to talk about it with anyone, and this was my chance to have something I’d been denying myself. I started to cry when I felt his hand move down to the waistband of my red and white polka-dotted panties. 

He lifted my chin to force me to look at him. I wasn’t expecting his expression to be so relaxed, so gentle. “You have to make a decision. Are you going to be a good little girl for me?” he asked and waited expectantly. 

I looked away from him as soon as he let go of my face. I just needed to know one thing before I made my choice. “Is that what you want- for me to be your little girl?” I asked trying to stop crying. I knew in that moment that he was right because I wanted him to say yes.

He grabbed me by the hip and pulled me all the way up his lap until my bottom was up to his crotch. “What do you think?” he answered as he nestled me down into the bulge in his pants.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger. The Wizengamot is requesting a recess. We will recommence in one hour’s time,” Minister Shacklebolt stated.

Severus watched his witness leave the stand and be taken out through the side exit. Even though he had sat stoically, he had been mortified for her. He tried to convince her not to testify, but she was insistent. He just couldn’t believe she was brave enough to recount her ‘alleged rape’ under the influence of veritaserum in front of everyone one she knew. And she was doing it to save his ass from Azkaban. It was ironic really. They’d let him off on all the things he was admittedly guilty of, but he was going to be sentence to rot in that festering shithole for something he didn’t actually do. 

As if her testimony up until now hadn’t been bad enough, he was sure that after the Wizengamot heard her narrate the next part they would gladly throw him in a cell regardless of his innocence. 

~~~~~~End Of Warning~~~~~

Ginny had just taken her for some ride: she had started out feeling exhilarated, but that quickly shifted into fear before transitioning into a confusing state of arousal, which ultimately left her mortified. There was no way she could finish this story right now. She’d be lucky if she didn’t have nightmares as it were. The thought of describing in vivid detail her…very personal thoughts and memories was just unthinkable. Harry and Ron would be there. Her parents would be there. And the way it happened was so…depraved. And, OH the implications of what was to come next! She couldn’t. She just couldn’t. She had to give herself some time to process this. 

If Ginny Weasley scarred her for life, she was going to make her pay for therapy.


	7. Petrified

Hermione found herself the recipient of a few parcels at breakfast Sunday morning. After opening a letter from Ron and a book on the history of the care of magical creatures department, she moved on to a small package from harry. The note attached read:  
I can never thank you enough for all you’ve helped me through, but I believe I’ve found the perfect gift to help you have a perfect day. You deserve it. I got it from Slughorn, so it should be safe. Happy Birthday!  
Love,  
Harry

She opened the small package and was stunned to see that was inside. The gold sparkled radiantly, and she ran her finger over the label: Felix Felicis. She knew this must have cost Harry a fortune. After closing the box, she tucked it securely in her bag. She was at a loss thinking of how she might use it, though. 

Hermione was in the library that afternoon when she found herself mulling over Ginny’s most recent story. They were supposed to be going to the greenhouse for potions that night, so she decided it would be best to wait to read the rest of it. She knew she probably wouldn’t be able to face him after finishing it.

Ginny walked with her down to the greenhouse that evening. Once given brief instructions on casting a suspension charm on their collections jars to insure the puffapod beans didn’t flower, she started plucking way. Hermione could barely see Ginny in the row in front of her though all the foliage. She slowly made her way to the back corner seeking more beans. She struggled to find them as light from the lanterns hung in the front didn’t quite reach all the way to the back. It really was sort of creepy in the greenhouse at this time of night.

Ginny’s story came back into her mind, unfortunately. She found the thought of tailing Professor Snape amusing. Like anyone would be foolish enough to do such a thing. Certainly not her. No, she imagined if she even considered attempting it, she would pay for it dearly. And NOT in the way Ginny had written it. No. She’d be walking along the deserted corridor trying to make it back to Gryffindor tower before curfew. She’d stop and look back swearing she’d heard a noise. Shaking her head at her own paranoia, she would turn back around, and he’d be only a hair's breadth away from her.

“Ahh!,” Hermione let out a frightened yelp as she felt a touch on the back of her arm and turned around to find herself looking into the buttons on Professor Snape’s robes. Her jar slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor at her feet. She looked down at the blossoming beans and couldn’t help but feel like the world’s worst flower girl.

Professor Snape signed in annoyance, “Class is over, Miss Granger. The others have already left.” At that, they both looked around, and neither saw nor heard another being. “Go,” he instructed.

She needed those beans for class! “But, Sir-“ she protested; however, he interrupted her.

“I will collect them myself. Just,” he looked uncomfortable, “just go.”

“Yes, Sir.” She replied and scurried out of the greenhouse without looking back. 

Once back in her dorm, she dared finish Ginny's story.

.  
~~~~~~warning~~~~~~~~~~~~~`  
(The witness continued)  
“Please return to the stand, Miss Granger,” the Minister said. 

Hermione walked past the prosecutors and sat down. At least a third of the people in attendance had not returned to listen to the rest of her testimony, and that included her parents, Harry, and Ron. At least Ginny was still there to support her. She waited quietly trying to ignore the whispers.

“Selena,” the Minister said, “Would you please read back the last question posed to Miss Granger, so we can get back to where we left off?”

The mousy girl next to the Minister nodded to him. Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle, shuffle ,shuffle. Shuffle. Hermione rolled her eyes at the girl as she flipped back though her transcription with her wand between her teeth, and one hand pushing her glasses back up her nose toward her undoubtedly empty head. “The defense addressed their own witness: Miss Granger, please describe in detail the events which led up to Mr. Peeves falsely believing he witnessed Severus Snape committing the crime of rape against you while he held you under the Imperious cure.”

“Thank you. And the last of Miss Granger’s testimony before the recess?” Minister Kingsley ask.

Shuffle, Shuffle, Shuffle, Shuffle, Shuffle. “The witness for the defense addressed the Wizengamots: He grabbed me by the hip and pulled me all the way up his lap until my- bottom was up to his c-crotch. “What do you think?” he answered as he nestled me down into the b-bulge in his pants,” the girl answered stumbling over her words and blushing furiously. 

“Miss Granger, are you ready to resume your testimony?” Kinglsely asked her.

“Yes, Minister,” Hermione answered him.

“You may proceed,” he told her with a nod.

“I told him, "Okay, I’ll be good for you."

“That’s my little girl,” he said to me as he played with the little white bow sewn onto the elastic of my panties. “But you’re not so little anymore. You’re a big girl now. Aren't you?” he asks me. When I did’t answer him, he smiled and brought his hand back up to my tummy for a shake, “…aren't you?”

“Yes,” I responded nervously. 

He took a lock of my hair and twirls it between his finger as he said, “You’re going to have to start doing big girl things now.”

I honestly didn’t know where he was going with this. I was so nervous. I was afraid of what we were doing. I was afraid of what he was going to say to me.

“I’m going to have to take you to the doctor. Big girls go to special doctors. Did you know that you can get sick down here?” he asked me as he tickled my crotch though my panties. I shook my head and tried to fight the aching that started between my legs. “I’m going to have to take you to the special doctor to make sure everything down here is okay." I was uncomfortable. My stomach was in knots, but I was getting wet. I couldn’t help it. 

“The doctor is going to make you take off your clothes. He has to make sure you are healthy inside, so he is going to put something in you down here,” he told me tickling me again, “to open you up. That way he can see inside. It’s really scary, and it can hurt a lot if the doctor isn’t nice. We have to get it taken care of though, so how about we go see the special doctor tomorrow?”

When I shook my head no, he told me, “well…I suppose I could do it. That way you won’t have to be scared, and it won’t hurt as much. Do you want me to do it rather than the doctor?” I nodded to him because I was too afraid to say anything. He helped me up onto his bed. I sat with my knees against the bed and my feet dangling down while he pulled my shirt off of me.

“Okay, lie back down on the bed and put your feet up,” he instructed me. I felt him grab my ankles and guide them up so my feet were flat against the top edge of the bed. It wasn’t a comfortable position. “Lift up,” he told me as he grabbed the elastic of my underwear on either side of my hips. As he pulled them off of me and put my feet back in place, I covered my face with my hands. I was so embarrassed.

He pulled his chair up to where I was laying and told me, “You’re doing just fine, honey. It’s going to be over before you know it.” I heard a drawer slide open, and that’s when I dropped my hands away from my face. I watched him pull a speculum out of his nightstand and started to panic. I knew better than to move, so I just cried. I was disturbed by the pulsing in my clit, and it made my stomach churn. 

“If it hurts at all, I’ll give you a massage after we're done to make it feel better. How does that sound?” All I could do was whimper, but he proceeded anyway. He knew it was a lot for me and that it took all my effort just to be a passive participant. “If we get this wet first,” he said touching my pussy, “it won’t hurt as much, so close your eyes and try to relax for me.”

I did what he told me to. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. I felt him pinch the outer lips of my vagina together a few times before he gently pulled them apart. This made me try to pull my legs together, but he stopped me. “It will only take longer if you do that,” he told me. “This part is supposed to feel good. Doesn’t it feel good?” he asked as he gently pulled apart my inner folds and ran his finger down the center of my opening.

He rubbed me with his hand until it was slick enough to glide over my skin like silk. “Good girl. This is the part that may hurt a bit, but you can cry if you need to,” he tried to comfort me. I covered my face with my hands again, ashamed of how aroused I was. I started bawling as soon as I felt the first bit of cold metal come in contact with my hot center. It seemed to slip in effortlessly, but I was so tense. I cried out as I felt the contraption expand inside of me. He went slowly but didn’t stop until my vaginal opening was taut from being opened wide. 

“That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he told me reaching up and rubbing my tummy soothingly. “I’m going to check the inside now,” he explained. I heard fabric shuffling and then a zipper. “It’s looking good, baby. Just stay right there. There is one more thing I have to check,” he stated sounding a bit breathless. 

That’s when I felt the tip of one of his fingers against my anus. My entire body stiffened, but he reassured me it wouldn’t hurt much. I continued to cry as he worked his finger into my bottom. My pussy was clamping down of the speculum, and i tried to keep myself from having an orgasm. At this point his breathing had become quite labored. I knew he was stoking himself while he looked inside my body and used his finger to penetrate me anally. 

And that’s when Headmistress McGonagall barged in with her wand drawn and Peeves behind her. She stunned Mr. Snape before he even had a chance to speak. I was so humiliated. I magiced my clothes back on, ran past her, and didn’t stop until I was all the way back to Gryffindor Tower. I knew he was going to be in a lot of trouble for being caught having sex with one of his students, but it hadn’t dawned on me that anyone would think I was being raped.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger,” Minister Kingsely said. “Does the prosecution have any further questions for the witness?”

“Yes, Minister,” the man said standing. Kingsley motioned for him to carry on. “Miss Granger, did Severus Snape rape you?” he asked me.

“No,” she told him firmly.

“Miss Granger, are you saying that you WANTED to engage in the activities you have described here to toady with Severus Snape?” he questioned incredulously.

“Yes,” she admitted to everyone.

“Miss Granger, did Severus Snape place you under the imperious cures?” the man asked smiling, obviously pleased with himself.

“No,” she answered emphatically.

The man’s self-satisfied grin fellow down his face and into a frown. He went back to his desk and whispered to his fellow prosecutor. Both men nodded and the one who cross examined her addressed Kingsley, “Minister, as much as it pains us to say this, the prosecution recommends the charges against Mr. Snape be dismissed. 

“Seeing as to how there appears to be no victim in this case, aside from perhaps Minerva McGonagall, I concur. Mr. Snape,” Kingsley addressed Severus, “the charge of rape against you is dismissed.” He banged his gavel, and there was an uproar in the crowd. Hermione could still hear the shouting after she'd been escorted out through the side door.

~~~~~~~~~~end of warning~~~~~~~~~  
Hermione set The Potions Master down feeling decidedly uncomfortable.


	8. Just Give It A Little Fluff

Over the next week Hermione tried to put Ginny’s story out of her mind. She had ended up telling her "The Witness" was interesting but also a bit much for her while they were in the library for their only in-class day to do research on their potions projects which Professor Snape had just assigned. Many of those nights, she tossed and turned, running both to and from her own personal boogeyman, Severus Snape. What’s even worse is that she’d woken up incredibly aroused each time.

Ginny had laughed when she’d learned that Hermione was having nightmares, but she offered to write a story Hermione would enjoy in exchange for her forgiveness and continued feedback. As promised, Ginny had dragged her into her room on Saturday to give her The Potions Master once again.

“Here, these ought to cool your knickers down,” Gin said with a wink. “I wrote two because they're super short. I hope you appreciate them because I really hate writing fluff. It makes me want to gag.” The girl made a sour face. “To each his own though, right?”

“As long as it doesn’t give me anymore nightmares,” slash wet dreams, Hermione added to herself. 

It wasn’t until later that night that she tucked in to The Potions Master. Much like the court reporter, Hermione shuffled right past the nerve racking testimony from the previous story and dove head first into her next adventure.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A Change of Course

Hermione stepped off the Hogwarts Express and onto patform 9 ¾ glad to have said her goodbyes to Ron, Harry, and Ginny on the train. She gave them each a hug and waved to the Weasleys as they welcomed their children home.

With a sigh of relief that it was all finally over, she strode toward the exit and through into King’s Cross Station, into her new life. The library was to be her first stop. She hoped that her parents current address, presumably still in Australia, would be in public records under their alias’. 

She was just about to enter the main platform for local traffic when a hand closed on her am and yanked her into a shadowed, offset corner. She was thrust hard against the wall and a hand covered her mouth. Hermione was struggling for her wand when she registered the face only inches from hers. Shocked, she shook her head profusely. “No, no, no. You’re dead,” she murmured into his hand.

Professor Snape held a finger to his lips to quiet her. “I know. I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said to her softly looking at the tears welling in her eyes. “I’d like to live in peace once I leave here, but that won’t be possible if you make a scene. Can I trust you to be quiet if I remove my hand?” he asked her gently. 

Hermione nodded after a moment, and he let go of her. She stood in front of him, still with shock. Drawing in a ragged breath, she threw her arms around his neck. It did not at all strike her as odd that she was hugging her surly ex-potions professor. She was hugging an ally she believed had perished during the battle, one she thought she had seen struggle to take his last breath.

He initially stiffened at her embrace but quickly welcomed the safety of her touch. It was something his life had almost always been lacking. Touching to inflict pain upon him was what he was accustomed to.

“Why are you here? You should be half was to…Tahiti or someplace,” she asked in a shaky whisper.

He stepped back from her and turned his back to shielding her from the passersby who may be able to get a glimpse of them. “I-I,” he stuttered uncharacteristically, “I wanted to say goodbye.”

“To me?” she asked incredulously. He suddenly looked sheepish, and Hermione’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He looked into her eyes, and his expression grew sad as his gaze lowered to her lips. Swallowing hard, he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one’s attention was on them.

Hermione was not daft. She knew what that look meant. Her stomach fluttered of its own accord, and she frowned at it. “How long?” she questioned sounding both accusing and flabbergasted. Snape only grimaced and shook his head. “I thought you hated me,” she protested.

“Which is why we are both still alive,” he explained in near desperation to convey his sincerity. 

She had no idea what to say to him. It was all too surreal. As she thought back, trying to find any evidence that this could possible make any sense, he leaned forward and kissed her. She was thrown by his tender manipulation of her mouth and lost herself in the moment. As soon as they drew apart gasping for air, he disapparated. She was left standing alone in the secluded corner.

After she decided that she hadn’t lost her mind and that Professor Snape did show up out of nowhere to kiss her in a way she hadn’t been kissed before, she shook her head and walked back out into the crowd.

She was going to find her parents, she told herself, as soon as she is done hunting down Severus Snape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione closed The Potions Master and frowned to herself. While the story had been sweet, it reminded her painfully of witnessing what she thought was his death. She shuddered at the thought. She didn’t blame Ginny for it though. She hadn’t been there to see it herself and couldn’t understand how it made her skin crawl just to think of it. On to the next, she told herself:

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A Shove In The Right Direction

Hermione sat alone curled up with a book in the library of Grimmauld Place on Christmas Eve. She seemed to be the only one not feeling like celebrating. Almost all of the entire Order was downstairs with Harry and the Weasley’s. Weasley, she scoffed. That prat! Doesn’t have the tact not to flaunt his gift from Lavender, not only in front of her but TO her.

“I see you’ve had enough holiday cheer as well, Miss Granger,” a deep voice drawled in front of her. 

To her surprise, she looked up into the black eyes of Professor Snape. She was shocked that he came here on Christmas Eve. “Professor,” she greeted him tersely cracking the spine of her book. “Not much to be cheerful about.”

“Trouble in paradise, I see,” he smirked as he sat down on the sofa next to her.

Hermione righted herself and answered in an indignant tone, “With all due respect, Sir, you couldn’t be more wrong. There is no trouble. There is no paradise.” She stopped short of her tirade reflecting on what she’d just said. “No trouble at all,” she repeated more firmly.

He barked a laugh at her, “Leave it to a Weasley to get a witch’s knickers in such a twist.”

Feeling scandalized, she retorted, “My knickers are in no such state, not that it is any concern of yours, Professor.” She had already been fuming before he arrived. What is wrong with men, she wondered to herself. She watched him nod his head in concession. 

After a moment of silence he spoke again, “You’ll get over it. It’s for the best anyway.”

“Get over-,” she balked. “Well, you certainly know how to cheer someone up. Thank you so much, Professor, for your invaluable words of wisdom.” He was letting her get away with her tone. She didn’t know why, but she wasn’t dumb enough to ask.

He turned to her, and his expression was indecipherable, “All I meant was that you are too good for him.” 

Was he mocking her? He had to be. “Well, I’m flattered that you hold me in at least slightly higher regards than Ronald Weasley,” she hissed standing up from the sofa. She threw her book down on the couch next to him and turned toward the door. 

As Hermione reached for the handle, Professor Snape spoke again, “Wait, Miss Granger.” When she stopped, he grabbed her by the arm and turned her around. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood my meaning.”

Hermione looked up at him with tears in her eyes. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? That’s why she came up here, after all. She sucked in a sharp breath when his free hand came up to cradle the side of her face. He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to hers. 'Safe' was the first word that her mind threw at her. What an odd thought to have, she mused before realizing Professor Snape, her professor, was kissing her.

Just then he pulled away. “Happy Christmas, Miss Granger,” he said quietly before stepping around her and walking out of the library.

Hermione remained in the library for over an hour contemplating the oddity of men yet never once thinking about Ronald Weasley. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the weekend, Hermione couldn’t keep her mind from imagining what it would be like to be swept off her feet by the impossible man. She wondered if he had dated much. She surmised he could have a girlfriend outside of Hogwarts, but it seemed unlikely as he’d never been one to come and go from the castle frequently. He had also been in a horrible position last year, and she couldn’t imagine him trying to maintain a relationship with someone through all of that. 

Although she had found Ginny’s story of the softer side of Snape sweet, she decided she would rather read the scandalous stuff. She surmised it was better to lust after Professor Snape than to fall in love with someone else’s imagined version on him. What a disaster that would be, she laughed to herself.


	9. Untapped Resources

Friday’s potions class came around quickly, and Hermione submitted her research proposal to Professor Snape along with the other students. She wouldn’t find out if he’d approved it until the following Wednesday. The thought of wasting research time between now and then, if he denied her, made her stomach turn over.

Ginny sat on her bed while Hermione helped her revise for transfiguration on Sunday afternoon. Gin was a bright girl, and it was no surprise that she had been made Head Girl. Hermione considered she was lucky to have classes with her, as it was drastically better than trying to study with Harry and Ron playing exploding snaps next to her while they talked about quidditch. After they were sure of the material, Ginny gave her The Potions Master once again. The redhead made a joke about her obsession with the library and confessed that she’d made it the setting of her latest story as a friendly joke. 

Once Hermione tucked in for the night, she pulled out the journal to relax into Ginny’s world before going to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~

An Oral Education

I sat in the back of the library studying for Slughorn’s upcoming test and secretly counted the other occupants vacate the library one by one. Once I was sure I was alone, I set down my textbook and pulled out the magazine I stumbled upon in the boys bathroom off the main part of fifth floor. I’d been trying to avoid a sixth year boy who continued to ask me out, regardless of how many times I’d turned him down. I dared into the first door I came across, and that's how I'd ended up in there.

I found the magazine both entertaining and informative. I had left off on the section pertaining to oral sex, and I was eager to read it. I had only performed it once before, and it was over rather quickly. Looking down at the picture in my lap, partially covered by the table, my heart beat sped up. The woman looked like she had swallowed him whole, and I wondered how that was even possible. 

“An interesting find, Miss Granger,” Professor Snape said as he plucked the magazine out of my lap. I was frozen with embarrassment as he held the magazine up to look at the image of the witch on her knees. “So this is what the infamous know-it-all does with her free time, hmm?”

The color drained from my face before resurfacing in full force until I was nearly maroon. “Sir,” she answered quietly. “I know I don’t I know everything, which is why I was reading that.”

“Reading? So you were ‘reading’ this for informational purposes? Why have you suddenly regressed to picture books?” he mocked. When she glanced around the room, he told her, “The library is closed, Miss Granger. No one is here to bail you out of getting caught with your promiscuous behavior.”

“I’m not promiscuous,” she denied. “My curiosity was strictly pertaining to my…sexual education. Muggles are all given a class on the topic in primary school, and it is something that should be implemented in the wizarding world as well.”

He raised an eye brow at her while closing the magazine and pinning it under his upper arm against his rib cage. “You wish to receive instruction on the art of fellatio. Is that it?”

“Among other things,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Fine,” he stated.

She frowned up at him. “Fine?” she repeated.

“Come along, then,” he breathed exasperatedly. 

Hermione scrambled to her feet and scurried along behind him into the far right corner where he took a seat in a lounge chair near one of the library’s three fireplaces. 

“Here,” he pointed to the floor in front of his feet.

“Sir?” Hermione looked at him in disbelief.

“I will not be outdone by some muggle educator, Miss Granger. If you want to learn to perform oral sex, I will teach you. Do you want the tuition or not?” he asked sounded as if he were growing impatient. 

Hermione could only nod as she walked up to the chair he sat in and lowered herself to her knees, her bum resting on her heels. Hermione's hands balanced her with the tips of her fingers touching the rug on either side of her, completely unaware of how much she looked like a child staring at a stack of presents under a Christmas tree. 

“You will have to arouse your partner if he isn’t in the proper state to receive fellatio. As I am in no such state, you’ll have to prepare me before we can move on,” he informed her.

Hermione nodded dumbly but remained stock still.

“Miss Granger, you’re going to have to touch me during this lesson. If you are unwilling to, there is no point in continuing,” he snipped.

She looked up at him in surprise. She had been waiting for his permission, to be honest. “Yes, of course, Sir,” she responded leaning forward brining her palms to rest on the tops of his thighs while sitting up. She rubbed them up and down the wool clinging to his legs a few times before braving his groin. He shifted in the chair when she brushed his crotch, which made her jump slightly.

He smirked at her nervousness. “Here,” he stated as he unbuttoned his trousers, reached in, and worked his cock out of the hole in his boxers.

Hermione was frozen in shock with how quickly that had happened. They were sitting in the library properly dressed, maintaining a level of modesty and decorum, and he’d just whipped his dick out like he was pulling a galleon out of his pocket at the super market. She was surprised he was circumcised, as it wasn’t a wizarding tradition. The community had generally viewed the practice as barbaric, but she didn’t want to think too much on that.

“It’s not going to bite,” he frowned at her. “Speaking of which, try to keep your teeth from scraping it.”

She gulped before nodding and leaning in. Placing her elbows on his knees, she picked up his cock. It wasn’t hard yet, not nearly enough to move on anyway. Its texture surprised her. It was squishy. There was no better word for it. She had only handled a penis once before, and it was already hard by the time she got to it. The skin was pink and soft, and it was surrounded by black hair. It was a newly hatched baby bird whose mother had crafted her nest out of the charred remains of the forest. 

Professor Snape made no noise at all while she labored at enticing it to want to play with her. It took about five minutes, which surprised her. Foolishly, she had actually thought it happened much more quickly than that. She’d thought it was like flipping on a light switch, to be perfectly honest. 

She was relieved to see it was of a normal size. She could only imagine the headlines if she’d suffocated on it: 'Golden Girl of Gryffindor Chokes to Death On Potions Masters Monstrous Cock: While Hogwarts professor, Severus Snape, had lost his fist love to his childhood nemesis before practically handing her over to Voldemort, his second took her last breath right before she took him into her mouth.' Good God! Why did her mind have to go there? Always!

“Now, start tracing it with the tip of your tongue. You can break it up with wet kisses if you’d like,” he offered as he looked down at her between his legs.

She leaned farther forward and poked her tongue out to make contact with his member. It was slightly salty and warm. She dragged her tongue up the underneath and swirled it around the tip of its head, which she then gave an open mouthed wet kiss to. Professor Snape hummed his approval, and she nearly gushed. 

“Wiggle your tongue gently on the slit,” he instructed.

Obliging, Hermione swiped her tongue across the top of the head and then back down until the tip of her tongue was lightly pressed into the little slot. She experimentally gave it little thrusts with her tongue between teasing it up and down. He must have liked it because he grabbed a handful of her hair and seemed to come off the chair a bit before readjusting his position in it. 

Hermione decided it was time to take him completely into her mouth, so she did. He hissed at the hot contact. She worked her mouth up and down as she had done the other time she had given someone a blow job. She was fairly certain by Victor's reaction that she could do this part well enough. 

He cradled her head in his hands. “I’m going to help you take more of it. If you need to stop, push up on my legs.

He held her loosely until she was as far as she could go. Once she was a little more than half of the way down, he gripped her more firmly. Pushing her down slightly, he grunted as she gagged and pushed on him. He let her go and looked down at her while she gasped for air. “Again,” he told her after she caught her breath.

She nodded and tried again, attempting not to gag right away this time. She was rewarded with a deep groan, and she could feel him pulse against her throat, a part of her that was previously untouched, even by her. The pair of them repeated this several times. She ultimately tapped out each time but was surviving much longer rounds. 

Each time, her throat closed around his shaft, mucus came up her nose, and her eyes watered. Although it was uncomfortable, she couldn’t deny she was incredibly turned on. He held her down again, and just as she was about to push off of him, she felt him thrust into her twice and spurt several times. She tried to swallow around him as his jizz drizzled down her throat, but he brought his legs together and puller her off of him as he hissed. A string of saliva still attached them to one another, and the last bit of cum oozed out of the head of his cock where she’d wiggled her tongue before.

To her surprise, he grabbed his cock and pulled her down to it again. He didn’t attempt to delve into her, however. Hermione groaned as he rubbed his wet tip through the drool and cum on her lips and chin. 

After a quick cleansing charm, Professor Snape stood and righted his robes, paying no mind to her as she fell back on her heels at his feet. With a brief glance down before heading out of the library, he said, "Let me know if you require further tuition, Miss Granger."

~~~~~~~~ 

While she found the beginning of the story humorous, Hermione couldn’t help the dampness that had gathered in her knickers by the end. As quietly as she could, she masturbated herself to orgasm in her bed while the other girls where fast asleep around her. She would be sure to thank Ginny for thinking of her while writing this one. 

The first Wednesday of October finally arrived, and Hermione was relieved to find out Professor Snape had approved her topic for research. When he’d handed their proposals back at the end of class. He set a book on top of her paper and said without looking at her, “I expect it back by the end of term.” Hermione was flabbergasted that he would lend her anything at all, let alone a valuable book. What was even odder was the fact that he’d addressed her so casually. There was no formal address, no lecture about not bending the pages, and no warning about setting it down too close to her pumpkin juice. Deciding to count her blessing, Hermione tucked it away in her bag and headed up to charms.


	10. Hermione's Troll

Hermione found herself in Ginny’s room once again on Sunday morning. The redhead was still fuming about their loss to Slytherin the night before. Apparently, one of the Gryffindor chasers was distracted by a breakup he hadn’t seen coming. Hermione gave her feedback on the library story and mentioned that Ginny ought to write something about a strong leading lady for once. So far she’d been cast as a thief, a victimized stalker, a damsel in distress, and a gullible student. 

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I guess you’re right,” she conceded. “Have a look over this one and leave it here, so I can get started on something new.”

With an uneasy look, Hermione said, “Right now?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s a fluffy one. I know how much you like those,” the girl winked at her.

Hermione pursed her lips as she opened The Potions Master to the bookmarked page. It read:

~~~~~~~~~~~~  


The Invitation  


“Remind me how this happened again?” he asked me with a stern expression, his arms folded across his chest, and failing miserably at covering his suspicion.  


I couldn’t believe we were doing this again, but indulged him anyway. “After returning to Hogwarts for my last year, I found myself struggling to find the familiarity I had always enjoyed about the school. It had, after all, been my home for six of the eighteen years of my life. The war had changed things, however. Though the school was filled with mostly the same people, they were somehow different after having seen things none of them should have had to face. The castle itself looked the same as well, but every time I passed through the halls, I couldn’t help but recall what the rubble looked like after the attack on the grounds.  


Cheerful laughter once filled the Great Hall during every feast, yet, when I looked around, there was a shared experience of grief. I was fully aware that we are all struggling to cope, but I also knew that we were all in our own hell and very much alone.  


~~  


What the hell is this, Hermione wondered. It’s bloody depressing. She glanced up at her friend who was sitting on the bed next to her while brushing her long flaming hair. She wondered if the somber mood had come from Ginny’s bereavement of her brother. Tears prickled at her eyes as she tried to tell herself that’s not at all how she felt about the school, about her home. 

~~~

In all of my searching for something recognizable from my life before, there was only one thing I found. Only one thing seemed to keep the overstretched branches of my mind firmly rooted to the ground, and that was my potions master. The surly professor was disagreeable at best and downright terrifying at worst, but he was the one constant I was able to locate. His demeanor hadn’t changed at all, in spite of the fact that he had a seemingly far less complicated life after the war. He still demanded excellence, commanded respect, and gave no empathy.

At first I had thought there was something different about him too, but after weeks of consideration, I concluded it was I who had changed. Well, the way I saw him, rather. I had always had great respect for him. Except for a year there, but that really is beside the point. I was always drawn to his intelligence, and his controlled exterior had sparked envy in me more than once. He was quite easily the most nerve-racking man I had ever met, and encounters with him often left me embarrassed. Over time that changed into curious interest. 

I found myself wanting to know more about him. I wanted to know what he was like under the mask he wore for the world. He was a war hero after all. Never once had I seen the man smile. That fact twisted my heart. If I did know one thing about him, it was that he did deserve to be happy. He had, by anyone’s standards, save perhaps his own, earned it. As the weeks went by, my curiosity grew, and I came to detest the thought of leaving Hogwarts because he would no long be in my life. My world would quickly descend into chaos without him. 

As I sat in the common room on my last night at Hogwarts, I couldn’t help be feel a sense of loss ahead. The graduation ceremony was beautiful, and the atmosphere was light for once. The common room was buzzing with laughter, but I had a whole burning inside of me. I slipped out through the portrait as the others were experimenting with the latest merchandise from the joke shop. 

As I walked down to the dungeons, I felt I should be deciding on a plan of action, but I couldn’t even bring myself to do that. It’s a wonder that my legs were paying no mind to my thoughts that were screaming at them to run the other way. 

I reached up and knock on the door before I lost my nerve. I put my hands in the pockets of my sweater to hide their nervousness. When the door opened, I forgot the reason I had walked down there. Professor Snape was standing there looking at me oddly.

He asked me why I wasn’t celebrating. I wasn’t sure what to say, and the silence was awkward. He made a quip about me coming all the way down to the dungeon to stare at him, and I laughed. I told him no, and that I wanted to thank him for everything he had done for us all. Once I said what I had gone down there to say, I felt like crying. It was time to walk away, but I really didn’t want to. It was awkward standing there outside his door.

After a minute, he said mine wasn’t the worst company he could have and stepped back to allow me into the room. One thing led to another from there, and that’s how we ended up dating.”

“Still sticking to that story, I see,” my father said curtly. He was still frowning. 

“Well, we’d love to meet him, dear. Bring him over for dinner on Saturday,” my mother said nudging my father on the arm, “You’re father WILL get over it eventually.” My father grumbled as he got up and left the room. “So tell me how he proposed. I’m just dying to know.”

~~~~

Hermione snapped The Potions Master shut and wrapped Ginny on the arm with in over and over again. “That is NOT funny!” she shouted.

The ginger giggled throwing out an insincere apology. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Over the next week, Hermione diligently worked on the potion they’d been assigned. Veritaserum took a bit of time, three class periods to be exact, and a great deal of precision. She was proud to say that hers looked more like the book described than anyone else’s. She frowned while thinking back at having to have Professor Snape gather her ingredients and hoped that it had not given her an unfair advantage. The next Wednesday came around, and Hermione only had two steps left in her brewing instructions. She was a good five steps ahead of her peers.

Professor Snape came around her table and scribbled something on his clipboard as he looked into her cauldron. He gave her a curious contemplating look but didn’t say anything before moving on. Hermione sat and read from her transfiguration text once she was done. 

Approximately twenty minutes before the end of class, Professor Snape informed, “Now that you have all finished, we will be testing your potions for accuracy. Mr. Davis, I’ll start with you. Gather a sample of your potion. I’ll be waiting for you in my office.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. This could not be happening. Gods! What if he asked her about that story? What if…what if…breathe, she told herself. Panic stricken, Hermione glanced around the room for any way out of this potential disaster. Gods, she felt sick. She didn’t have time to vomit, though. She had to find an escape, and now!

The Davis boy came out of the door to Professor Snape’s office and said, “Granger,” as he jerked his head toward the door indicating she was next in line for a whipping. 

Grabbing a fistful of the mashed Jobberknoll feathers off of the workbench behind her, she tossed them into her cauldron causing a puff of smoke like she was a witch in a muggle movie. Her potion immediately turned green and thick like sludge. She breathed a sigh of relief as she collected some in a phial. She would have time to cry about her grade later. Right now, she had to focus on making it though the minefield. 

Hermione walked through the door to Professor Snape’s office and sat down in front of his desk. She dared not look at him as she set her sabotaged potion atop his desk.

She could practically hear him frowning holding it up to the light. “This is yours?” he asked. “It did not look like this last I checked. What happened to it?”  


“D’know, Sir,” she answered him looking down at her hands in her lap. It would not do to look him in the eye. No it wouldn’t do at all.  


“You do realize this will severely affect your grade on this assignment?” he prodding the academic achiever in her.  


“Yes, Sir,” she answered.  


He sat looking at her for a moment before saying, “Get out.”  


“Yes, Sir,” she replied and left the room swiftly, never looking back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It wasn’t until Friday that she was able to look back and laugh about it. She told Ginny what happened at dinner, and nearly caused the girl to choke on her pumpkin juice. Her laughter died down as they heard Headmistress McGonagall address them from the head of the staff table.

“May I have your attention please? I am thrilled to announce that all of the repairs to the castle have been completed thanks to our skilled professors. Charms classes will resume in the charms classroom hence forth. I have decided that the best way to celebrate this wonderful news, and honor those who have fallen during the war, is hosting a ball.”

The Hall erupted in side conversations, but McGonagall put a quick end to it, “Quiet! You’ll have plenty of time to discuss it among yourselves in just a moment. I have invited several past students, a few ministry members, a few writers from the daily prophet, and lastly, I am granting you all permission to extend an invitation to a loved one in the event that they are not currently a student here. I give you full warning, however, that the staff will all be chaperoning and will be deducting copious amounts of house points for any undesirable behavior. You are to represent this school with class and dignity. The ball will be on Halloween at 7pm. I encourage you all to have fun with your costumes. Let them be inspired by the loved ones you’ve lost, or those you are lucky enough to still have with you. It is a remembrance celebration. Now, you are free to feast and carry on.”

Hermione sat quietly while Ginny listed every possible costume under the sun. She took a deep breath and glanced up to the staff table. When she met Professor Snape’s eyes, she quickly looked away. While she’d gotten over her last potions class, going to a ball was the last thing she felt like doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear! No sappy Halloween Ball ahead from Ginny or myself for that matter.


	11. Biblically Baffled

Ginny gave Hermione another read on Friday, the day before Halloween. Hermione read the story during her free study period, which turned out to be a mistake. She sat there staring off into space before realizing she needed to gather her things to get to potions. Shutting The Potions Master and slipping it back into her drawer, she headed down to the dungeons. She was grateful for the long walk because she needed to clear her head, for she wasn't alright after what she'd just read.

~~~~~~~~

The Legend Of The Black Cat

Three years ago this Hallow's Eve  
I captured an innocent soul to satisfy my craving.  
Afterwards, I was scarcely a rumor, but the second year left me an urban legend.  
This was to be my last, as it was to be my last year in the castle.  
The first two years I had taken my favorite of the older boys.  
The first one had been a thrill, but the second,  
disappointingly, didn’t live up to the excitement from the Eve before,  
perhaps for him but not for me!

This year’s prey was to be the crown jewel atop my legacy.  
I needed a bigger challenge; I needed a bigger reward.  
I needed to go out with a bang!  
And so I crept and crouched, listened and learned until I found him.  
I had to bite down on my fist to keep from squealing in delight  
at just how perfect he would be.  
There would be no greater challenge, for you see,  
I had my sights set on the potions master.  
Yes! I decided; it was to be.

I yanked on the dangling chain of the rickety light.  
It flickered on, casting an eerie orange glow around the room-  
swinging to and fro, swishing and swooping,  
making our outlined shadows dance upon the wall.  
I had already blindfolded him, as I did not want him to see.  
I circled around him, my heels clinking and clanking on the cobbles below. 

His head bounced from side to side like a beautiful ballerina’ s  
as I bounded about him like a bunny in spring.  
“Who are you?” he demanded of me.  
That would not do, not at all for me!  
And so I had to gag him, for I did not want a mouthy detainee.  
It filled me with glee when next he tried to speak.  
Nothing came out but a muffled plea.  
It was oh so beautiful! Don’t you see?

I was already delightfully dizzy with desire.  
I wanted to touch him, taste him, tease him, torture him, take him as my own.  
My wanton lust had woken so wildly that I could not, would not wait-  
not one more marvelous moment, so I vanished his robes  
and with the velvet vision before me so valiant,  
I had to voice my vulgar validation of his virile value.  
Oh! What a wonderful work of art I watched and waited oh so long to worship! 

So I dropped to my knees at his alter to pray.  
This part was important, so very, very important to me!  
I could not falter, you see  
because I’d gotten a new toy to deploy for this particular boy.  
I lavished his lovely loins with long languid licks.  
He relentlessly lurched and leapt against his limb’s leashes  
while my palms lain on his lean, lanky legs.  
I could not help but lewdly laughed at my lively lover.  
And oh! He was lively as could be!  
I tried to reassure him he’d learn to love it,  
but he continued to labor against his locks. 

Once he was hot and hard in my hedonistic hand,  
I unsheathed my sword and stroked him-  
with the cold steel of my shiny, new, silver rod.  
Oh! I must have given him a fright,  
even though I promised him, “It would not bite!”  
Wow! Did he put up a fight!

He grunted and groaned, would have groveled if not for the gag,  
but I got on with it. Good, Gods! I couldn’t wait to get going!  
I slipped the slick cylinder in his slit so as to keep him still in service until I was sinfully satisfied.  
And when I whipped out my plug and went for the whole shebang-  
he nearly wept when he first felt it.  
But I withdrew and used my womanly ways to work him up  
to welcoming the new world I wanted him to walk with me. 

When I wiggled the plug within, he fretfully but finally seemed to see.  
I was in charge of him: he was to submit to me!  
I swished and flipped and flicked the flogger on his fine flesh  
until he swayed, swooning in delirious delight from my devilish device. 

His sinewy skin was scarlet; so red from my frantic effort to feed my need-  
that it went straight to my head, so much so that I crazily considered-  
in the future, having him in my bed.  
But that was a thought for another time;  
a time if ever he were mine so long as I weren't dead,  
which I’d surly be if ever he found out it was me!

Pumping him with my fist, he was paralyzed;  
plagued with both pleasure and pain by my persistent perversion.  
My prize was puffing; he was huffing and heaving-  
in a haze from my heinous hobby.  
I removed the gag, so I could hear his gracious, grateful groveling.  
I needed to revel in the glittering, glowing glory of this Godforsaken game!

He spat and spluttered, spit flowing free.  
“Please!” he begged, “Please, let me cum!  
Oh, please! Oh, please!” he said to me.  
I agree but only for a fee; I told him-  
to count because I knew he could afford just a little more for me.  
And so he did! He counted them: one, two, and three!  
He nearly bawled with the blows from my beloved, black-handled friend.

I let go of the lethal leather and unsheathed my sword;  
removed my straitjacket from his surging serpent.  
He swore as I swiftly swallowed his salivating snake. He seized and stuttered,  
his salty seed seeping until sated. I said my signature salutation.  
“I’ll see you in class, Professor,” I painfully punished him.  
I vanished all the evidence while fleeing, and he slumped to the floor.  
Severus Snape looked back, but all he could see  
was the legendary Black Cat, who just happened to be me!

~~~~~~~

Hermione could practically hear herself blink. What the fuck had she just read? That being said, her thoughts of having Severus Snape at her mercy were appealing. Very appealing, indeed!

Hermione struggled to shake the visions and stay focused, but Professor Snape sitting, ankles and wrists bound to his chair, was too tempting not to think of. She idly traced a finger around his nipple on her workbench with her other hand propping up her head. Was it even possible to tease him enough to make him beg, she wondered.

"Miss, Granger," Professor Snape stated sternly, "Five points from Gryffindor for your inattentiveness. Now, pay attention." 

Feeling incredibly foolish, Hermione buried her head in her book and counted the seconds until class was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sword is a sounding rod.


	12. Closet For Two, Please

Halloween day was torturously slow. Hermione ruminated all afternoon on her confusing feelings for Professor Snape. She was still somewhat afraid of him, but her desire had peaked. She caught herself daydreaming about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him, and she nearly grimaced at herself for it. She knew better. She did! Ginny’s Snape was not the real Snape, but that only seemed to highlight the mystery surrounding the wizard. It was a foolish thought. It wasn’t like he would ever have any interest in her anyway. 

How did a Hogwarts teacher even date? She’d never seen strangers coming and going with flowers and chocolates, nor had she seen or heard of “visitors” heading to one of their rooms. Were they bound to a life of celibacy? Surely, not. What if some of them did fraternize with students? Did one sneak to meet them in the late hours of the evening? That definitely did sound exciting, even if completely insane for the risk of it all. How would one even go about tempting that impossible man? She could only imagine that would lead to a hundred points from Gryffindor and a year’s worth of detention with Filch. 

What if Professor Snape brought someone to the ball?! The thought make her sick to her stomach. She did not want to see that or even think of it. She hadn’t intended for this to happen. This crush, infatuation, or whatever it was, was rapidly becoming a source of turmoil for her. There was no good ending to it for her unless if fizzled out and quickly. She felt such a fool for not seeing this coming. She did not feel like going to the ball. Her insecurities were getting the better of her, and she needed some time to sort them out; to untangle them from her sense of reality. She really just wanted to be alone.

Ginny walked into the common room at a quarter to seven. “I can’t wait to see Harry. I’ve missed him so much. He’s coming as my pirate. I’m a wench,” she said twirling around.

“Indeed you are,” I said eyeing the too tight bodice suffocating Ginny’s upper half. “I don’t really have to go, do I?” Hermione gave her a pleading look.

“Yes. You do. Don’t you want to see Ron and everyone? I know Harry is looking forward to seeing you,” she said pouting at Hermione. 

“Fine,” Hermione whined as she walked back to her room to get herself ready. While rummaging through her drawers to find something that would pass as a costume, a glint caught her eye. Unable to think of a better time to use her birthday present from Harry, she uncorked and drank the golden potion. She did immediately feel a little better, but she still did not want to go the ball. With no other options, she threw on her school uniform and headed back out into the common room where Ginny was sitting lacing up her black shoes.

“I thought you were getting dressed! You can’t go as a- a Hogwarts student, now can you?” Gin asked.

Hermione sighed, waved her wand over her tie and said, “I can if I do this.”

Ginny balked at the Slytherin Green tie around Hermione’s neck. She then giggled, “I suppose that is a Halloween costume for a Gryffindor.”

Hermione rolled her eyes sat next to Ginny while she waited for the girl to finish putting on her knee high boots. Once Ginny was done, she tug Hermione along through the portrait and down the many stairs to the entrance hall where students were gathering. The doors to the great hall opened and people filed in. Students, linked arm in arm, walked about and embraced their guests while others were heading to the tables of food scattered randomly around the room. Hermione had to try not to laugh at the numerous Harry Potters walking about. She hoped Ginny wouldn’t get confused. 

Hermione was startled when she felt someone fling themselves at her. Santa, she thought as she looked at the white beard and red coat. She laughed at the sight in front of her. Felix brought her Santa Claus? 

“How ya been Hermione?” George said smiling brightly through a big white mass of hair. 

Relieved, Hermione hugged him again. “Why on earth are you dressed as Santa?”

“Freddy’s favorite holiday,” he answered pulling her in to whisper in her ear. “The last thing we worked on before…well the last thing we worked on anyway was enchanted mistletoe. It goes invisible and pops up on unsuspecting people. I’ve let three of them loose, so watch out.” He winked at her and his attention quickly turned to Ginny and Harry.

“Hermione!” she heard Ron’s voice through the crowd. He was dressed as keeper for the Harpies. 

Typical, she thought. “Hi Ron, how’ve you been?” she asked.

“Not bad, and yourself?” he asked looking like he wanted a specific answer; something more than he had just given her. He obviously hadn’t changed at all since she’d been away at school.

“Good. Really good,” she replied. She really did not feel like reminiscing with him but let him lead her to a table off to the side of the room where she could at least avoid being asked to dance. After Ron brought back the third round of drinks, Hermione was damn sure someone or seven someone’s had spiked the punch. She was also sure that Felix was a botched brew. That’s Slughorn for you, she told herself. She was not enjoying herself one bit and considered telling Harry to get his money back. 

Hermione felt a bit tipsy, and Ron was being way too forward with her. Why couldn’t he get it in his head that she wasn’t interested? He had asked her out over the summer, and she had flat out told him no. One would think that was a clear sign. She had to keep gently brushing his hands away; away from her knee, away from her waist, and away from around her shoulder. She was getting pretty fed up with feeling groped, and she had only been there an hour and a half at most. She wondered how many more hours this was going to go on for. Fucking Felix, she cursed the potion. 

Hermione was taking a sip of her third drink when she first caught sight of Professor Snape. Until that moment, she hadn’t thought of him once since leaving the Gryffindor common room. That was lucky, she supposed. Perhaps the Felix was just expired. It was a nice break really. Ron placed his hand back on her leg, and Hermione froze. All she could think about was Professor Snape seeing Ron touching her. She felt sick. Would it make him think of the story Ginny had written? What if he thought she was dating Ron? The thought made her panic, and the turmoil from earlier came back to slapped her in the face. She glanced along the wall behind them a few feet away and noticed a door. Deciding it was time to run, she chugged the last of her drink as soon as Ron’s attention drifted from her and asked abruptly, “I’m thirsty, Ron. Would you mind getting us more drinks?” 

“Of course. Anything for you, Mione,” he whispered giving her thigh a little squeeze. 

She cringed at that stupid pet name, and as soon as he was out of sight, she dashed to the door. Luckily, it was unlocked. She stepped in and shut it behind her as quickly as she could. She couldn’t see anything, so she cast lumos. She was in a bloody broom closet! Why couldn’t this have been a passage? Still, she would rather be in here than out there being felt up by Ron. She cast nox and leaned back against the wall. She could hear the music clearly, as well as bits and pieces of conversations of the passersby. 

Hermione stood against the wall in the dark thinking about how pathetic it was to be hiding in a closet during a party. There was a brief flash of light that caused her to open her eyes, but it was dark again. It was dark, and there was someone flush up against her in this tiny little broom closet. Before she could panic, a bright light at the tip of a wand was shoved in her face. She couldn’t see anything and drew her hand up to swat it out of her face.

“Miss Granger?” she heard a deep voice question. She knew that voice well. It belonged to Professor Snape. He lowered his wand and dimmed it enough for them to see each other more clearly. 

“Professor,” she acknowledged him. “I’m afraid this closet is already occupied. You’ll have to find another one.” She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her to speak so rudely to him. Maybe it was Ron, or the spiked punch, or the professor himself. Maybe it was the fucked up Felix.

“I’m afraid that is not an option. Why are you in here?” he said accusingly.

She felt her cheeks flush when she realized every breath she took caused her breasts to press firmly into his chest. Hermione struggled for the right words, “I am hiding from hands that seem to want to take liberty on my person. Why are you in here?” she questioned sounding more demanding than she meant to.

“Perhaps, for the very same reason,” he spat annoyed.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What is so amusing about that?” he asked dangerously as he glared at her.

“I’m sorry, Sir. It’s just that,” she laughed more, “I never imagined that anyone could make you, of all people, hide in a broom closet.” She continued to laugh. “I mean, you’re only the most intimidating wizard in all of Britain. I can’t imagine what kind of evil must be out there on the dance floor.” She stopped laughing. She really hadn’t meant to say so much. Damn punch.

She felt a sigh leave him before he said with conviction, “The red devil.”

“Oh!” Hermione said loathingly. “Yes, it seems that Miss Skeeter missed the memo on this being a costume party. In that case, you are welcome to stay in my closet.”

He smirked at her comment, before narrowing his eyes at her, “I see you’ve made an enormous effort to dress up for the occasion.” He pointed his wand at her Slytherin tie.

“I see you haven’t,” she retorted looking straight at the buttons in front of her face and then back up to his eyes.

“Gin, have you seen Mione? I can’t find her anyway. I only went to get her more punch,” she heard Ron’s voice just outside the door. 

“Maybe she went to the bathroom. You should probably wait for her where you left her. I’m sure she’ll be back,” Ginny replied. 

Hermione threw her head back to the wall. Damn Ginny. Feeling Professor Snape’s eyes on her, she shifted uncomfortably. Of course, how could he not look at her? They were stuck up against each other, facing each other no less. His body was firm and radiated heat. Hermione tried to ignore his intoxicating aroma. The parchment, ink, herbs, and something else. She didn’t want to know what it was, and she wanted to stop thinking about it. She wanted to stop thinking about him. She shifted again, growing even more uncomfortable with their proximity. “How long do you suppose we’ll be stuck like this?” she asked quietly.

Hermione saw him pinch the bridge of his nose. He waved his wand at the door to ward it, she assumed. He then flicked it up at the ceiling where a small candle was conjured. “I assume until one of us is brave enough to face his or her fate. You’re the Gryffindor, why don’t you go first?” he mocked her.

“I’m not a Gryffindor tonight,” she quipped. She raised a sassy eyebrow at him. Seriously it must be the punch, she thought. He scowled at her, which caused her to shift again in an attempt to get some distance from the man. The evil Snape looks were even more unnerving up close. 

“Stop. Moving,” he growled glaring at her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. She fixed her eyes on the corner behind him to ease the tension that was growing inside her. Hermione saw something curious hovering in the air. It was a faint outline. The longer she watched it the more tangible it became. “Oh fuck!” she exclaimed once she registered what it was.

“Watch your language, Miss Granger,” Professor Snape barked at her.

Hermione was not put off by this reprimand. “Of course, Sir. I apologize. Let’s make this a teaching moment then. What is the proper exclamation a student in my situation should make, upon first seeing that?” she asked sweetly pointing above him. 

Professor Snape furrowed his brows and looked up at the hovering mistletoe. He took a sharp breath of air then spoke through gritted teeth, “perhaps I was mistaken.” Hermione watched his Adam’s apple move, and she felt a blush creep up her chest and into her cheeks. She looked away before he could look back down at her. “It’s Halloween, not Christmas! Whose bloody idea was this?” he growled.

Hermione felt the growl reverberate from his chest and go straight down between her legs. She closed her eyes trying to push the sensation away. “Didn’t you see the Santa? Well, it’s George. He and Fred made the sneaky things before Fred was killed. He released them in his honor,” she said rolling her eyes. Hermione watched Professor Snape fire hex after hex at the foliage above them to no avail. She felt like she was standing under a fireworks display. Oddly, the room was getting warmer. Much warmer. “Sir,” Hermione said after a few minutes, “do you think it’s getting hot in here, or is it just me?” she asked wiping a few newly formed beads of sweat from her forehead. 

He let out an exasperated sigh and leaned his head back on the door with his eyes closed. He reached up to touch his forehead and said, “It is hot in here. I fear it is that damn mistletoe. Just like those little cretins to charm it punish someone when its requirements are not fulfilled.” Hermione watched as he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his robes. “I’m afraid we’ll just have to wait it out. Cooling charms haven’t had any effect at all.”

Hermione knew that wasn’t going to work, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. She feared he would be angry if she even suggested getting rid of it the obvious way. Hermione struggled while taking off her outer robe and rolling up her sleeves.

“Stop. Moving,” he growled at her once again.

“Sorry,” she said loosening her tie. After another few minutes, she said, “Sir, I’m not sure how much more I can take, and” she braced herself for his response, “I’m NOT going back out there.” He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. He was shimmering with sweat, just as she was herself. She thought she saw his mouth twitch before he looked away. Disappointed with his lack of any kind of response she rested her eyes on the buttons on his chest.

“Do you think it will cool down in here immediately?” he asked quietly still not looking at her.

Hermione was relieved that he was even considering it. She didn’t want to say anything to make him change his mind and settled on, “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

He growled again, and it stirred up the ember that had briefly subsided within her, “This will never leave this broom closet. Is that clear?” he demanded an answer.

“Of course, Sir,” she agreed still not looking up at him. He pointed his wand to the ground and conjured a wooden box of some sort under her feet. She now found herself looking at his neck instead of his many buttons. Suddenly, the candle vanished. Thank god, she said to herself trying to calm her nerves. This will be less embarrassing in the dark at least. Her heart was pounding. There they stood, sweaty up against each other in the dark. Hermione felt his hand touch her chin and lift it gently. She nervously wetted her lips. Hermione thought she was going to faint in anticipation waiting for the contact.

Finally, she felt his lips on hers, soft, moist, and gentle. It was…sweet. He pulled away slowly. That was not at all what she had been expecting. That’s how Snape kisses someone? Like they’re a delicate fucking flower? Hermione supposed it was exactly what would be expected if a teacher had to kiss a student. She felt disgusted with herself for feeling disappointed. Professor Snape’s voice snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.

“It’s gone,” he said rubbing the back of his sweaty neck. Cool air was flooding into the closet, much to their relief. 

They stood in the dark still, and Hermione shifted her weight again. After having been kissed like that, Hermione was sure now that Professor Snape still saw her as a child. He probably still thought of her as a ruddy first year eager to prove herself. She wanted space. She wanted to not be touching him anymore. She tried turning slightly but was still flush up against the man she wanted to run away from. 

Hermione sensed Professor Snape bring his right hand up to the wall over her left shoulder. Confused, she started to open her mouth to speak but felt his hair tickle her right cheek. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his lips ghosting over her ear as he spoke.

“Contrarily to popular belief, I assure you, I am only human. I’m going to make this a clear as I can, Miss Granger. If you do not stop rubbing up against me, you are going to have a much bigger version of the problem you are currently attempting to hide from,” Professor Snape whispered threateningly. 

“Bang! They were pulled away from their conversation as something hit the door hard. “Oh, Won, Won. I’ve missed you so much,” said the voice of none other than Lavender Brown. Hermione could hear sloppy kisses and the soft rattle of the door. Ron’s voice came through, “we should find somewhere more private. Shouldn’t be too hard. Everyone’s in here.” Hermione grimaced looking away from Professor Snape.

Professor Snape righted himself and said, “Winky.” 

Hermione jumped as the little elf appeared in the room crowding them even more. “Yes, Master Snape?” she squeaked in the dark. 

“Please apparate Miss Granger to the front of the entrance hall. Then, if you would be so kind to return, I’d like to be taken to my office,” he said. 

“Of course, Sir,” the elf said as she groped around in the dark for Hermione. 

Before she knew it, Hermione was standing alone outside the Great Hall.


	13. A House Elf's Mistake

Hermione made her way back to Gryffindor Tower contemplating what had just happened in the broom closet. While she couldn’t believe what Professor Snape had said that to her, she knew he was just trying to intimidate her. She wasn’t sure what she would have said to him had Ron not interrupted, but it was best not to think on it any further. 

Hermione was fairly miserable during the first two weeks of November. She was stressing about maintaining her perfect grades while trying to keep her mind from straying to Professor Snape too often. Every day that ticked by without another story from Ginny added to her tension. She held out another week before she broke down and asked Ginny for the next one. She’d had potions that afternoon, and he had walked by her one too many times for her to stay focused on her work rather than the little wafts of his masculine scent. 

“But it’s not even finished. I’ve been so busy with homework and quidditch. Not to mention head girl duties,” Ginny said apologetically.

Hermione understood, but she was getting desperate, “Please, I don’t care that it’s not finished. I just need a distraction. It’s been such an awful week, Gin.” 

“Alright, alright,” she gave in. “Here. I don’t know how soon I’m going to be able to finish it though. I have three essays to write and we’re playing Ravenclaw on Tomorrow.” 

“Thank you. You’re the best,” Hermione told her while taking the journal from her. 

Hermione took The Potions Master back to her bed. It was a busy Saturday with all of the homework they’d been given to do over the weekend and two quidditch matches scheduled. Most of her peers were making their way down to breakfast, though. Once she was settled, she quickly dove in.

~~~~~~~  
An Incredible Oversight 

“Fine! I’ll go with you, but I still think this is ridiculous, Harry. There is no way Malfoy is a Death Eater.” Hermione stated as she grabbed hold of Harry’s hand to help pull her up into the air vent on the train. Hermione quickly fell behind as the three made their way down the tunnel passing several coves leading to the compartments below. When Hermione heard a familiar voice, she stopped and strained to hear more. Ron gave her a questioning look, but she whispered for him to go ahead without her. The boys disappeared from sight and Hermione crawled into the cove and found herself hovering over a compartment housing two of her Professors.

She thought it was odd that they were even on the train but figured they must be there as extra security. To Hermione’s surprise Professor Vector was sitting across from Professor Snape. Hermione watched her Arithmancy teacher stand up from her seat, walk across, and sit next to Professor Snape. She was unusually close, Hermione noted. The woman had a long flowing black skirt on and a loose white blouse. Professor Vector placed her hand on Professor Snape’s knee and said, “I was hoping to get better acquainted this year, Severus.”

Hermione furrowed her brows. What would Professor Vector want with Professor Snape? She was the youngest, and by far, the most attractive teacher at Hogwarts. She had long dark hair, long eyelashes, and womanly curves. 

Professor Snape scoffed and snapped his paper open, “I’m not interested, Professor.” 

Hermione was dumbfounded. How could professor Snape not be interested? Hermione watched as Professor Vector slid her hand up Snape’s thigh and squeezed gently, “We don’t have to talk, if that’s what you’re opposed to.” Hermione could not believe how forward Septima Vector was being. Hermione crouched there looking over the two with her mouth agape. Snape folded his paper and sat it down on the seat next to him. Hermione suddenly had the feeling she should definitely not be watching them now, but she couldn’t look away. 

Snape looked at Vector as if considering her offer before he said, “If there had ever been a possibility of me having any interest in you, Professor, it was obliterated when I walked in on you with Lockhart. To this day, I cannot look at your face and not see his ass.” Snape gave Septima his best devilish, condescending smile.  


Hermione had to quickly covered her mouth to muffle a snort. Snape had rejected her advances again, and he had smiled. She had never ever seen him smile before. Reluctantly, Hermione had to admit to herself that the way he twisted his lips just then, was the sexiest thing she had ever seen. She felt her stomach flutter, and she continued to cover her mouth to keep it quiet. Snape stood up and walked to the compartment door.

“That was your fault! You should have knocked!” Professor Vector stated indignantly.

“I did. Though I suppose it would have been hard to hear over that baboon grunting his own name,” Snape said as he made a sour face at her. He walked through the compartment door and slid it shut leaving Septima alone. 

Hermione slowly made her way back to the compartment she was sharing with Ron and Harry. Ron had returned, but Harry had stayed to keep spying on Malfoy. Hermione sat quietly for the remainder of the journey to Hogwarts mulling over what she had witnessed. She wondered what Professor Vector saw in Snape. Yes, he was brilliant and power. Yes, he was dark, mysterious, brooding, and alluded to danger. Sure, he was snarky, but it was probably to keep people away, and that always makes one even more curious about a person. Hermione couldn’t help but feel guilty as she realized that the only reason she was so shocked was a shallow one. She felt extremely guilty for judging Snape by his appearance, something she has chastised her peers for many times. She herself knew how unfair it was to be judged in such a way. 

Hermione could not decide if she thought Professor Vector was slutty, or if she was impressed that she had not judged Professor Snape by his appearance. While Hermione had a crush on Lockhart when she was twelve, she now shuddered at the thought of the fraud. Professor Vector was a fully grown woman though. One who had apparently not been able to see past his celebrity.

~~~~~~~~~ 

Hermione shut the book feeling unsatisfied. She wanted to know what happened next. Damn it. Deciding the best thing to do would be to distract herself with schoolwork, she shoved the book under her pillow, got dressed, and headed for the library. She spent the remainder of the day there, and walked down to the pitch with Ginny after dinner for the Hufflepuff Slytherin match. It carried on for hours as one of the seekers took a nasty hit to the head, and the other was just plain horrible all on his own. Exhausted, she fell asleep as soon as she made it back to her bed.

The next day Hermione had to write a big chunk of her potions research paper, so she wouldn’t end up rushing to get it done at the last minute. She was extremely grateful that Professor Snape had lent her the book he had because it had information in it that none of the library books did. She was able to finish two scrolls by the afternoon. Luna joined her and Ginny down by the lake for lunch.

“Do you think Professor McGonagall would mind if I wrote my essay on transfiguring woodland creatures instead of rodents?” Luna asked as Hermione bit into her sandwich. 

“No, but if you decide to ask her, let me know. I would like to see that,” Ginny laughed. 

Wanting to change the subject, Hermione asked, “How is Neville doing?”

Luna answered enthusiastically, “Oh he found a herbologist to apprentice under. He’s very excited. Once Professor Sprout retires, he’ll apply for the position here.”

Hermione finished her lunch while she listened to the two girls talk about a wizard band she’d never heard of. After bidding them farewell, she made her way back to the library. She had to finish her runes assignment and it was sure to take a good two hours. The translations were so advanced that there were only three students who were up for the challenge of continuing the subject. Hermione only made it about half way through the assignment when she was interrupted. 

Pop! The sound of Winky entering the library echoed off the deserted row near were Hermione was seated. “Miss,” said the little elf.

Hermione looked up from the table of runes she was working on, “Oh, hi.” 

“Miss is going to Professor Snape’s office now,” Winky squeaked. The little elf looked nervous and was wringing her hands. 

“Oh?” Hermione replied. “Do you know why?” She couldn’t think of a reason Professor Snape would be requesting her presence in his office. She hadn’t done anything wrong. 

“No, Miss. I is just told to send you down to the dungeons,” she answered tugging on her overly large ear. She gave Hermione a sheepish smile and disapparated away.

Frowning, Hermione gathered her things and put back the reference book she had been using. She wondered what he could possibly want from her. A sense of dread washed over her on her long walk down to his office. She shook off the sickening feeling she was in trouble and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” Professor Snape’s voice came from inside the room. 

Hermione pushed the door open and stepped inside. Seeing Professor Snape writing languidly on a bit of parchment put her more at ease, and she closed the door behind her.

“Sit,” he commanded quietly while he continued to write. 

Setting her bag down on the floor behind the chair, she hesitated before walking around it to sit facing him from across his desk. Desperately, she tried not to think about being alone with him in his office. Hermione looked at her hands in her lap once he set his quill down and turned his attention to her.

“Are you aware some house elves can read?” he asked quietly. She shook her head. She had just  
assumed them all to be illiterate. He continued, “Not something they brag about. One of them found this while cleaning Gryffindor Tower,” he held up the black book, “saw the title and assumed it belonged to me.” He placed the black book on the desk and rested his long dexterous fingers on top of the cover. 

Oh My God! No! Not this. Not again. Hermione’s throat went dry. Her face flamed, and panic welled in her chest. Don’t say anything, you’ll only make it worse, she told herself. 

Once, twice he strummed those fingers on the black book. “Judging by the look on your face, you have read this.”

Hermione felt a jolt, and her chair skidded around his desk only coming to a halt when her knees were nearly touching his. Her stomach turned as it reminded her of the rollercoaster she once went on as a child. She was now sitting face to face with him behind his desk, and she wondered if any student had ever been in this odd position. Fearing what he might have planned for her, she spoke, “Sir-”.

“Miss Granger,” he cut her off, “I fear I was off base in my assumption that you or whoever was attempting to have me removed from my position here.” He gave her a look that hinted at regret. He spoke more softly than she expected, “is one of my Slytherin students harassing you?”

Huh? “Wa-what?” she blurted in complete confusion.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, “After last year, there are many bruised egos in my house as you can imagine. If one of my students is tormenting you with these writings…well, it is sexual harassment, and it will not be tolerated in this school.” Hermione looked at him with bemusement. “If you are not comfortable talking to me about who is writing these, you will talk about it with the Headmistress. Either way, this will be dealt with.” 

Shocked, Hermione wasn’t sure what to say. How daft can he be? It is sort of sweet that he cares, but what am I supposed to tell him, she asked herself. I have to tell him something. The last thing I want is Headmistress McGonagall to become aware of this sordid extracurricular activity of mine. “Please, Sir.” She shook her head profusely. “Please don’t tell her.”

“Miss Granger, some of this is very disturbing. Well-,” Professor Snape faltered for the first time Hermione could remember. “It is ALL disturbing, but some of it more…so than other…parts.” He seemed incredibly flustered, and, shockingly, his complexion was slightly pink. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice. Either you tell me who is harassing you, and I tell the headmistress for you, or you will have to tell her yourself,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

I didn’t have time to think about which disturbing parts he was referring to, I would have to panic about that particular detail later. “No one is harassing me, Sir,” she stated firmly looking over to his desk at the book under his hand.

Another sigh escaped him before he said, “I am going to call for the Headmistress.” He moved to stand, but Hermione grabbed the sleeve of his robe in panic. 

“Please don’t!,” she pleaded looking up at him. They sat frozen until Hermione came to her senses and let go of his arm. “I’m sorry,” she blushed again and struggled for words to keep his intended action held off on. “Let me explain,” she asked.

“Very well,” he stated leaning back in his chair. “Out with it then,” he demanded clearly annoyed at her lack of cooperation.

Hermione twisted her hands and grimaced. The truth is the only thing that makes any sense at all. Maybe a portion of the truth will suffice. “Well,” she took a deep breath and looked back at the book on his desk. “Um, you see,” she shifted in her chair, “someone I know told me they fancied writing as a sort of hobby.” She chanced a glance up at him, and he waved her on to continue. Damn, she thought. “I asked them to write something for me, o-only, I didn’t know that was the sort of thing they were going to write.” Hermione wanted to stop talking there, hoping he would believe her and let it go. She mumbled, “Probably as surprised as you were by it.” She cringed, feeling pressured to keep explaining, “Then you thought we were trying to get you fired, and I felt awful. That was neither of our intentions, I promise you.” She looked back up to meet his glittering gaze. 

With a pensive look, Professor Snape nodded slowly. “That explanation is insane. I’ll concede to the fact that it is possible, but it does not explain this, however,” he said picking the black book up from his desk.

“Sir?” she asked. 

“If you are being truthful about how the first one came into existence, it still does not explain this second one,” his voice was dangerous and full of suspicion.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Hermione bit one of her fingernails and looked back to the floor next to her. The truth is best, she chided herself. She had not anticipated this and was at a loss for what to tell him. “Erm,” she murmured trying to buy time. 

“The truth, Miss Granger. Now,” he demanded setting the book back on his desk with a slight thud.

He can’t possibly be this dense, can he? Sounding angrier than she meant to, she responded, “I asked for it.” Hermione folded her arms across her chest and looked at him defiantly. There just wasn’t any other plausible explanation. 

“You can’t possibly mean to say-” he started to refute then stopped, and his expression went slack. His eyes fluttered shut, and he shook his head minutely in disbelief. When he opened his mouth to respond, he stopped short.

Hermione was suddenly angry. She’d spent quite a bit of time lately agonizing over him, and he’d been completely oblivious. “This is entirely your fault, you know?” His offended expression, did not deter her from going on, “That’s right. If you hadn’t tried to scare the piss out of me when you found the first one, which, by the way, I was just as much of an innocent bystander as you were, then that,” she said pointing to the journal, “wouldn’t have happened. Your little plan to terrify me backfired. Didn’t think it though very well, did you Professor?” She carried on with her tirade still fuming at the situation. “It’s hard to believe that the seemingly all knowing Professor Snape wouldn’t realize that this could happen if he whispered filthy things in the ear of an impressionable teenage girl while he was touching her. Alone. In his Classroom!” 

“I think you should leave,” he stated slowly focusing on the grain in his desk. “Right now.”

Relieved, Hermione scooted her chair back far enough to get up without touching him. She picked up her bag and when she reached the door, she heard Professor Snape speak.

“Whatever this is, put an end to it before you make a mess of both our lives. If someone else had found this- It is naive of you to think the Prophet wouldn’t publish a false story about a girl who earns her grades in such a way,” he said in warning.

She slammed the door to his office behind her. She only just made it to the bathroom on the fourth floor before she started to cry.


	14. Foresight For One Hundred, Alex

Standing with her head leaning against the door to the bathroom, Hermione tried to get a hold of herself. How had this happened? Why had a house elf been digging through her underwear drawer? She was sure she’d tucked it away. She always did. Hermione thought back to the last time she was reading it. She let out a frustrated growl realizing that she had left it under her pillow, and the elf must have found it while making her bed. If only she’d listened to her mother and made her bed every morning, this wouldn’t have happened. As she went into a stall to get a handful of toilet paper, she told herself it could be worse. No actually it couldn’t. 

“Is it a boy?” Myrtle asked floating up behind her. “I heard sobbing.” 

Hermione was startled, but at least it interrupted the flow of her tears. “I wish,” she replied to her. Panic struck her in that moment, “Oh, Gods! What am I going to tell Ginny? What if she asks for it back?” She began to pace the room frantically, fretting over what she was going to do. “I can’t just tell her I lost it. She’d kill me!”

Myrtle interjected again, “Lost what?”

“Oh, I…lost something…valuable of hers, and I have no way of getting it back,” Hermione whined. “Not only that, I can’t tell her how I really…lost it. She’d freak out.”

“I accidentally set my bed curtains on fire once,” Myrtle shrugged. “And ‘poof’, they were gone. Just like that.”

“Fire,” Hermione repeated shaking a finger at Myrtle. “Yes, fire. I could accidentally have set it on fire.” She stopped and shook her head, “Oh, that’s ridiculous. She’d never believe that. Even if she did, she’d want to know how, and then what? How would I have accidentally set it on fire?” Spontaneous combustion from the friction of rubbing it between her legs? “Not to mention there would still be charred remains, which she may want to try to fix. No, that just won’t work.” 

Myrtle nodded. “What about telling her an erumpent ate it?”

Hermione gawked at her. “You’re a worse liar than I am! Don’t you think someone would have seen an erumpent running through the castle? She’d kill me if she thought I was careless enough to take it outside, and even then someone would have seen me running for my life from a giant horned beast.” Hermione shook her head. “It needs to have disappeared without any crazy details. Oh!” Hermione exclaimed. “I accidentally vanished it.” She continued to work it out in her mind. She sighed in relief once she’d decided on the most realistic excuse for having lost The Potions Master. “Thanks for the help Myrtle,” she said as she picked up her bag and took off for the Gryffindor common room.

Potions classes were more awkward than they had ever been. Professor Snape didn’t even so much as look at her all week. He ‘accidentally’ forgot about her when making his rounds to check on their potions. Apparently seven students was one more than he could keep track of. She didn’t know how he managed teaching any of his other classes. She wasn’t about to complain, though. Him ignoring her was for the best, she supposed. She was determined to get over him and move on. Every time she thought of him reading one of Ginny's stories, she cringed. Gods, he must thing she’s a loon. By the end of the week, every thought of him was accompanied by nausea in place of wet knickers. 

On Friday night Hermione was unable to stand the tension she felt waiting for Ginny to ask her about the journal any longer. Hermione said to her, “Gin, I have to tell you something.”

“What?” she asked her.

“Well, I was rereading one of your stories a few days ago, and spider ran across the page. It startled me. Anyway I went to vanish it, but I accidentally vanished the book along with it,” I lied. 

“Oh,” Ginny frowned. 

Hermione said, “I’m so sorry, Gin.”

Ginny shrugged, “It’s alright. I was going to finish it and give it to you as a Christmas present, so it’s really your loss not mine.”

“So you’re really not upset?” Hermione asked.

“Of course not. It’s not like you lost it. Now that would horrible. But again, more horrible for you than me,” she giggled.

Hermione could only nod at her. 

The next week, Hermione was surprised that Professor Snape seemed to have gotten over it, as he was only ignoring her like annoy chatter in the library instead of the plague. She was grateful for that as she really needed to focus on her studying. The end of the semester was approaching quickly, and she was looking forward to winter break. 

The second week of December brought an unsettling change that Hermione was not prepared to deal with. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Professor Snape was watching her at meal times on Monday and Tuesday. She was relieved he hadn’t been at breakfast or lunch on Wednesday, and chalked it up to paranoia until Wednesday’s potions class.  


Hermione was laboring over her cauldron trying to get her potion to the correct texture when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She looked up to see that Professor Snape had vacated his seat at his desk, and when she turned around to see where he’d gone, she nearly wet herself. He was standing so close behind her, that she had to take a step back bumping into her work bench to properly look up at him. He gave her a curious look but said nothing as he walked away. What was he doing standing there like that, if not trying to give her a fright? Hermione was very annoyed that he seemed to have gone back to trying to intimidate her. 

On Friday, Hermione was certain something was amiss. When Professor Snape came around to her table to demonstrate the crosshatch dissection of boomslang skin for the wolfsbane potion, he took up the stool next to her once again. This was not like the last time, however. This time he was closer to her, much closer. She was unable to move when she felt his leg lean in to rest flush up against hers as he sat and sliced with precision. What was he playing at, she asked herself as she sat there trying to tell her hormones to behave.

It took her days to realize what he was up to, and she was furious. How dare he use it against her, to torment her. It’s just like him, though, isn’t it, she mused. He’d always been a cruel sadistic bastard. He was fucking with her mind for his own amusement, and she had to remind herself several times that she was angry and not hurt by it. 

Hermione tried her best to put him out of her mind over the weekend while she finished up her potion’s research paper along with her transfiguration essay. She spent several hours on Saturday and Sunday practicing her charms and defensive spells. Continuing to feel like she was being watched, her frustration grew. She’d attempted to catch him at it several times, but he’d shifted his gaze away quickly enough each time to avoid the confrontation. 

She nearly stormed out of class on the last Wednesday of term. She was beside herself with frustration. Professor Snape had been handing their wolfsbane potion essays back toward the middle of class, and he’d returned hers first. He continued around the room as usual, but on his way back to his desk, he had done something that left her shaken. Hermione had been sitting with her arm resting on her work bench as she hunched over her returned essay when he walked by her. She felt the backs of his fingers lightly brush along her forearm as he passed by. It happened so fast, she nearly thought she’d imagined it, but his avoidance of her for the remainder of class was telling. 

One more class, she told herself as she waited outside his classroom on Friday. She desperately needed a break from the horrible man, and she prayed she’d make it out of the dungeons today in one piece. Hermione turned in her research paper along with her peers and set to work on the quick potions they were to brew that day.

Hermione was on step seven of the internal heating drought which was used to counter the effects of hypothermia when she realized she didn’t have enough arum stems. She had to collect two more form the storage room, so she didn’t end up with a useless potion. They were on a higher shelf than she could easily reach, so she stood on her toes to reach for them. She saw the black buttoned up sleeve of Professor Snape reach over her to grab what she was reaching for, and then she felt his lean form gently step into her maximizing the contact. Hermione spun around to confront him about invading her space because she was tense enough just being in his class; tense from trying all day, every day not to think improper thoughts about him.

When she turned to face him, he wasn’t even looking at her. He wasn’t focused on her or their proximity. “Avery, how many time must I tell you to reduce your flame? Are you trying to blow up my lab?” he barked with his head turned toward the classroom. 

Hermione was furious. How dare he? How dare he press his body into her and then pretend to not even notice he did it. He was pretending like she wasn’t even there! He finally turned around to face her and handed her the jar she had been reaching for. She gave him an angry glare and snatched the jar from his hand. When she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off.

“An appropriate response would be, ‘Thank you, Sir’,” he said scornfully at her attitude before walking away from her, leaving her huffing alone in the storage room. 

Hermione was annoyed the remainder of the class. She avoided looking at him, but struggled as she felt like shooting daggers at him with her eyes. She couldn’t wait to get out of his class. She couldn’t wait to get out of the school altogether. 

Later that night Hermione sat on her bed staring at her trunk after she’d finished packing it. Some of the girls had already fallen asleep, but she was too anxious for sleep. She knew she would have to see Professor Snape again before she left for holiday, and the reason was sitting on top of her trunk laughing in her face. She rubbed her eyes and nearly whined with dread as she picked up the book he’d lent her for her research paper. Hating the thought of him ruining tomorrow for her as well, she decided to get it over with now, not giving a damn that it was sort of late to be calling upon him. 

The entire way to the dungeons Hermione hoped he had retired for the evening already and that she wouldn’t have to face him. She would be able to just leave it on his desk maybe. He would have had to have left his door unlocked, but it was still worth the hope. She knocked three times on the door, and held her breath.

“Miss Granger,” Professor Snape said as he looked down at her after opening the door. He held the door open for her to come in, and she hesitated before taking the invitation.

Once inside, she spoke, “I wanted to return this before I forgot and thank you for lending it to me. It was very useful,” she held the book out to him. 

Professor Snape reached to accept the book and let go of the door which shut quietly behind him. “Yes. Thank you for returning it,” he said. “Oh. Reminds me…,” he mumbled walking past her.

Hermione watched him go through the door on the opposite side of the room and wondered if she was supposed to leave or wait for him. She hadn’t a clue what he expected of her. “Sir, I’ll just be going then,” she said wanting to take the opportunity to flee, but he returned too soon. To her horror, he was carrying the black journal filled with scandalous stories about the two of them.

“I trust it won’t find its way back into this school,” he said with a pointed look while holding it out to her. 

Hermione was bemused. “I thought you would have burned this. Why did you keep it?” Hermione asked taking it from him.

His posture became rigid, and he didn't answer her right away. “Well..,” he trailed off turning the slightest bit pink. “Some of it was… rather creative writing,” he admitted while rubbing the back of his neck.

Hermione had never once seen Professor Snape nervous before. Ginny had been wrong about him. She had been wrong about him! He was…SHY and it was…ADORABLE. Oh my god, she thought. He hadn’t been trying to torture her. He'd been…flirting with her!?! She struggled to contain a ridiculous grin. “Right,” she said in a tone that tactfully hinted at her disbelief. She’d caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, and he was so embarrassed that he couldn’t even look her in the eye. She couldn’t help but smile at him. “Have a good holiday, Professor,” she told him as she walked to the door.

“Oh, sod it,” she heard Professor Snape mumble.


	15. The Decision

“Oh, sod it,” Professor Snape mumbled.

Hermione felt his hand grab her by the arm and spin her around. As she drew in a breath, he stepped nearer causing her to step back into the door. One hand came up and tangled itself in her hair while the other rested on the door above her shoulder. His lips were on hers before she had time to process anything. Hermione’s knees went weak as he moved his lips against her. It was not at all like the kiss they’d shared in the closet. It was full nervous energy and every time the pressure on her lips let up, she could feel his trembling. 

He seemed to be acting with apprehension, and Hermione only had to give it half a thought before she realized he was probably a wreck with unease kissing a student in his office. Not wanting him to have second thoughts, she grabbed a fistful of the front of his robes and moved her lips in encouragement. The kiss turned into one of need, and she let her tongue brush gently on his lower lip. She was rewarded by his coming out to meet hers in friendly greeting.

A hungry growl escaped him as he stepped closer pinning her to the door with his body. After running his free hand from her shoulder down her arm, he leaned down to grab the back of her leg. He lifted it prompting her to wrap her leg around him. Severus’ other hand abandoned her hair and coaxed her other leg around his waist, so only her upper body was resting against the door.

Hermione whimpered feeling his blossoming erection press into her clit. Desperate for more contact, she arched her back against the door to grind into him. Severus bit at her bottom lip as he rubbed himself against heat. He continued grinding into her until she was digging into the back of his robes with her nails. She withdrew to take a shaky breath, and he pulled away to look at her. She must look a mess, she thought, all red and sweaty with her hair all wild and what not.

“Did you mention to anyone you were coming down here?” he rasped shifting his gaze to somewhere on the floor beside them.

“No,” she breathed. 

Severus practically whined shaking his head before letting out another frustrated growl. Without warning, he reached around behind her to put his arm under her ass to hold her up as he pulled her away from the wall. Hermione gasped in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck to keep from falling backward. He was carrying her to the door in the back of his office with one arm to support her weight and the other wielding his wand. 

Hermione heard the door open and watched breathlessly as a small study passed by her vision and disappear. They were in the dark until a fire started in the fireplace on the far wall. Hermione thought she was in shock when he set her on a bed and leaned over her to capture her lips again, guiding her back to rest on top of the comforter. Realizing that she didn’t even care if she was dreaming, she reached up and felt for the buttons on the collar of his robes. 

His lips began to move frantically against hers, and it distracted Hermione enough to feel confused when he pushed her away briefly before returning to her lips, which, apparently, was all the time he needed to pull her shirt over her head. Once he’d gotten her bra out of his way, Severus’ hands found hers to assist with finishing the buttons on his robes as he nipped and sucked on her lower lip. He leaned his weight down on her as he drew up one of her legs to wrap around him again. Both shirtless, his bare skin set hers on fire. The small amount of silky hair on his chest was enough to tickle her hard nipples deliciously. 

Hermione nearly cried when his lips left hers, but relaxed when she felt his tongue tasting the delicate skin of her neck. His wet kisses trailed down until he had engulfed one nipple in his mouth while palming the other breast. “Mmm,” she hummed at the incredible anticipation that was building inside of her. He began to kiss lower and lower until she sat up in a panic realizing where he was going. She’d never done that before. The thought intimidated her. He remained with his head by the waistband of her pants as he looked up at her with a questioning look. She was too embarrassed to say it, but she quickly forgot why she’d been so hesitant when she felt him lavish her navel, dipping his tongue in and teasing the outside. 

Making quick work of removing her jeans, he pulled her forward to the edge of the bed. He paid no attention to the squeak she let out, and went straight to kissing and licking her through her damp panties. Once she was panting heavily, he slid them down her legs and off, letting them fall to the floor at his knees. Any attempt at pulling her legs together was overridden by his hands pressing them apart as he went straight to work lapping at her wet core. 

Nearly shuffling up the bed at the new and intense sensation, she reached her hand down toward him expecting to touch his shoulder. She was caught off guard as he grabbed her by the wrist. Instinctively, she grabbed his in return. It reminded her of one of those ridiculous movies where a guy was trying to hold on to a girl as she dangled over the edge of a building. She WAS on the edge, though. Wasn’t she? She was facing an uncertain future with uncertain consequences. She suddenly understood what it meant; the appeal of it all. The grip he had on her said ‘I've got you’ and in a way that no movie was able to convey to her. She rested her head back on the bed as she allowed the feeling of his tongue to wash over her. 

Severus buried his face in her sex and worked her into a trembling state by attacking her clit with his tongue. Hermione felt him dip his tongue down into her as she climaxed. She was trying to catch her breath as he moved back up her body, letting his trousers and underwear fall to the floor. He was free from them when he scooted her further up the bed and crawled along with her. She regretting not getting a better look at what he was about to give her, as she could only just barely make out his features in the light of the small fire. He wore a look of determination, and it was a bit intimidating, if she were to be honest. He kissed her forcefully, and the salty taste on his tongue was unfamiliar to her. 

Feeling the need to have more say in how fast this was happening, she pushed him by the shoulder until he allowed her to sway him on his back while she rolled over on top of him. Hermione reached down and grabbed him to line his aching erection up with her entrance and was relieved that it was much bigger than Victor’s had been yet not the terrifying monstrous thing Ginny had written about. 

Their panting waltzed in the air as she lowered herself onto him. His hands found her waist as they both struggled for control. Unable to give him any longer to adjust to the sensation, Hermione began to rock against him, lifting her hips as she brought herself back down on him. She watched him, enraptured by the slack expression on his face until his chest was laboring and his hands were gripping her thighs. 

Her legs were getting quite tired, and she couldn’t have been happier when he sat up and rolled them over. His weight was crushing, and she loved it. Severus’ hand came down to the inside of her right knee and lifted her leg up and to the side a bit. Shifting his weight to mostly be on the bed, he pushed deeper into her. He groaned at the sensation and kissed her slowly until he was finally buried all the way inside her once again. Hermione felt him take her left hand in his, entangling his fingers with hers. She thought it was odd that she had never considered doing such a thing in the moment of passion. Yet, it somehow heightened the intimacy between them, and it felt right. 

“God,” she breathed as he began to slowly grind into her in small circles only pulling out a little before pushing back into her. The contact on her clit was dizzying and she involuntarily met his movements with her hips until they were both on the verge of climax. Hermione’s orgasm rolled through them both, and he groaned he lost control and was swept up in her current. 

He waited until their breathing return to normal before he let himself slip from her and roll over. He shuffled in the bed until he was comfortably on his stomach, his head resting on his pillow facing her with his eyes closed. She laid there for several minutes watching him before she got up to find the bathroom. 

She wasn’t sure if he was even awake still when she came back out. Hermione stood there looking at him unsure of what to do. Should she leave? Should she stay? Yes, she told herself, it was appropriate to leave after a quick fuck, but not appropriate after what they’d just done. She couldn’t help but feel that he’d just made love to her, even though she knew that was ridiculously juvenile to believe. On the other hand, maybe she should have expected that from a man whose life had afforded him so little tenderness. 

Hermione padded her way back to the bed and picked up the undershirt he had been wearing. She slipped it on before climbing back into bed beside him, and was somewhat startled when he stirred and put his arm around her midriff without opening his eyes or saying anything. She pondered the man lying next to her until she drifted off to sleep.

Waking up in an unfamiliar place was more than a little unsettling, but she quickly got her bearings. After using the restroom, Hermione braved walking through Professor Snape’s bedroom door to the room she’d been carried through the night before. She was somewhat surprised to see him sitting at a table reading the newspaper. He was barefoot still, but dressed in a shirt and trousers.

Nervously, she made her way over to the table and sat down opposite him while he continued to read the paper. “I’m surprised you didn’t panic when you woke up with a student in your bed,” she said tucking a curl behind her ear and fiddling with the bottom hem of his shirt she’d put on the night before.

“Oh, I did.” he said with conviction. “For all of five seconds until I remembered I was going to hell anyway, so I got up and made coffee,” he said nodding to the cup across from him that was intended for her. 

He picked up the paper and said, “Be sure to give Ms. Weasley something nice for Christmas. Will you?”

She sucked in a breath before asking, “What makes you think it was her?”

He folded the corner of the paper down, so he could see her. “Well upon reflection, I concluded it had to be her because she was the only one who stood by your side during the trial,” he answered with a feigned look of horror. 

“As well she should! She’s the one whose mind imagined it!” she squeaked. 

He laughed, shook his head, and returned his attention to the daily prophet.


	16. Epilogue

Some time later...

“Please, Severus,” Hermione begged. “Just one time, and I’ll stop asking.”

“No,” he said firmly.

“You don’t know you won’t like until you try it,” she reasoned. 

“Yes. I do,” he stood his ground.

“Oh yeah?” Hermione stormed out of the room and down the hall. Within seconds she came back and questioned, “What about this?”

He stiffened, “That’s different.”

“Is it?” she demanded looking at him expectantly with the sting on the handle of the flogger balanced on the tip of her index finger.

He grimaced. “Fine. Just give me a few minutes,” he hissed as he tossed the Daily Prophet aside and reached for the book she had set on the table. 

Hermione skipped out of the room and down the hall to their bedroom.

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” he vented. You love her, he reminded himself as he opened the book to the page she had marked to quickly reread his script from “The Witness.”


End file.
